


Flames and Starlight

by Penjaculations



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Also More Characters and Relationships, Angst and Feels, As Story Progresses There Will Be More Anyway, Blood and Violence, But only a little, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Fluff, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Loss of Parent(s), Misgendering, Multi, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Trans Male Character, chapter 8 especially
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23900725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penjaculations/pseuds/Penjaculations
Summary: He is nine years old when his world is thrown into chaos. It happens slowly and yet somehow all at once, and both things are true. It happens in a car ride on an average morning of an average day, a morning where he’s happy and loved and telling his mother about the little bird that landed on his windowsill when he woke up. How he tried to draw a picture of it but couldn’t get the feathers right, and could she help him fix it later when they were back at the hotel, please? It is an average moment.Until it is not.
Relationships: Dolcetto | Dorochet/Original Character
Comments: 26
Kudos: 18





	1. Love and Devotion Help All Things Grow

He is nine years old when his world is thrown into chaos. It happens slowly and yet somehow all at once, and both things are true. It happens in a car ride on an average morning of an average day, a morning where he’s happy and loved and telling his mother about the little bird that landed on his windowsill when he woke up. How he tried to draw a picture of it but couldn’t get the feathers right, and could she help him fix it later when they were back at the hotel, please? It is an average moment.

Until it is not.

Then it is screeching tires, his mother’s scream piercing the air, the smell of burning rubber and metal. It is blood on the pavement, on his shirt, on his father’s hands. It is the horn, busted and blaring while he covers his head to try and drown out the noise. It is waiting. Waiting while people yell from outside the vehicle, waiting while his eyes burn from the smoke, waiting for his mother to tell him everything is going to be okay.

But she never does.

He is delirious by the time someone pulls him from the wreckage, not even able to ask for his mother and father.

When he wakes, seemingly in a hospital room of some sort, and finally does ask for his parents, the serious men in white coats ignore his question. In fact, they ignore all his questions, puttering about his small room and acting as if he isn’t there.

It only takes a few days for him to recover from what little injuries he got from the crash. He asks about his parents every day, and every day his question goes unanswered until he realizes he’s probably never going to get an answer. When he’s able to walk on his own, they tell him he’s been picked for a very special job and they lead him from the little hospital room and down a long white hall to another room with big metal tables and cold seats. There’s a sour-faced little man with a clipboard who asks him all kinds of questions, and when they’re done the man smiles and tells him they’re going to give him an extra special number for a name.

He learns to hate that man’s smile. He learns to fear it.

His number is 24601.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

He is given a new room, but it is not a room. It is a cage with metal bars for walls and he is not alone, he’s pressed in with other children and adults like animals in a cage. They all have numbers instead of names, and his, which didn’t feel special when it was given to him, feels even less so now.

They are all scared of the men who smile, because the men who smile always come to pull someone from the cage, someone who doesn’t always come back. The ones who come back are never the same as before they were taken, and he learns that the men who smile like to hurt them. He does not learn why, because none of them know.

He makes a friend, another boy only a few years older than him, who has been here for months but still manages to find reasons to smile. In secret, under hushed whispers, they trade the names their parents gave them. The other boy’s name is Dolcetto, and the secret knowledge feels warm in his mouth like a taste of pie still steaming where it cools on an open window ledge. His own name feels like a death in his mouth when he says it, makes his eyes sting with tears for the parents he hasn’t seen in weeks. Together they come up with a new name, even more secret, and when they settle on Asher he learns the meaning of the word hope.

Dolcetto tells him about the farm he grew up on, about the animals his father taught him to care for, about the fights he and his siblings used to get into over things that seem silly now. Asher tells about the desert of his homeland that he hasn’t seen in over a year, about the nights that are so clear the stars seem to sing with the force of their shimmering lights, about the songs the wise-woman sang to make the rains come and breathe life back into the sands for the coming harvest.

When Dol asks him how anything can grow in a desert, Ash just laughs and repeats the words that were a motto of his clan.

“Love and devotion help all things grow.”

Dol asks him if he remembers any of the wise-woman’s songs, and Ash does- drilled into him from an infant they are as much a part of him as his eyes and hair- and they huddle together in their cage as Ash begins to sing quietly, falteringly at first, because his voice is young and the tune is centuries-old, but then others in the cage join in. Others who have the same striking, cherry eyes, the same moonlight hair, and Ash feels a glimpse of home. The glimpse is short-lived.

Two days later they take Dolcetto, and Asher bites three men for their crime before they can manage to pull the older boy from the cell. It takes five men for them to get Ash out and into another cage in another room, and he is left to stew in his anger and sadness, emotions too big for the small body that contains them. They deny him food as punishment, one day for each person he bit or scratched, and by the time he’s brought back to the group cell the fight has been all but starved out of him. He doesn’t make any more friends. He doesn’t have any more questions. Instead, he quietly sings to himself until his voice is hoarse, committing all the songs he knows to memory so that there’s something the smiling men in white coats can’t take away.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

Time passes, so much so that Ash no longer knows how long it’s been since he was first brought here. He’s older now, and of the group that was here was he was first shoved in this cage, he’s one of only a handful left. New numbers have come and gone, but even after all this time none of them have figured out what makes the scientists choose certain people over others. They know nothing beyond the knowledge that being chosen is likely a death sentence. Ash’s fight has returned, but it’s subdued, hidden even. He keeps it underneath his fear, close to his heart, ready to be used when it’s needed most. He doesn’t know when that will be, but he knows it’s one of the few things he has to cling to in this place.

He still doesn’t have any new friends, for getting close only means getting hurt, and the risk of losing someone again is a greater cost than he’s willing to pay. He still doesn’t know what happened to his parents, but he knows if they were still alive he would not have ended up here.

In his mind, he buries them and sings a eulogy song in their memory. It’s the only song he hasn’t yet sung out loud, and he likely never will. He imagines their bodies, given back to the sands that gave them life, and sends a silent prayer to Ishval begging his protection over their souls. His understanding of the death rites of his people are only a child’s knowledge, but it is all he has and he refuses to let it go.

There are many things he refuses to let go.

When the scientists finally come for him he does more than bite and scratch. One man’s nose is swollen purple and leaking red, another sports a black eye and nearly lost a finger to this child with fire in his eyes. The sour-faced man watches it all unfold from the corner of the room, clipboard in hand as per usual. Ash expects to see disapproval on his face, to be locked up alone again, but the man is smiling. He is not just smiling, he is almost manically gleeful, and it’s the most terrifying thing Asher has seen so far.

In the end, they manage to hold his arms and shove a needle in his neck, and Asher’s world goes black a scant few seconds later.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

Ash is eleven when he learns what happens to people who have been chosen by the scientists.

He wakes up in a room lit only by candles, lacking the harsh, fluorescent lights he’s grown accustomed to. His hands are not so much bound as they are chained to the floor by thick, stone bands. It seems excessive, he thinks, to put so much effort into keeping a mere child in one place. On the floor around him are strange markings, written with some white, powdery material, all contained in a giant circle. Beside him, within the circle and also chained down, are several large cat-like animals. They have spotty markings as if someone dipped their fingers in paint and then pressed them repeatedly upon the creature’s body.

They look just as scared and angry as Asher feels.

There are scientists all around the outside of the circle and its markings, taking notes on their stupid little boards and making comments about the thing they’ve drawn on the floor, and he listens even though he barely understands what they’re talking about.

“You’ve adjusted it to include getting rid of the restraints first, correct? The last few got horribly disfigured when we left them chained down, and this subject is a very promising case, we don’t want to waste her potential.”

“Of course, oh wait, there’s an error here.”

“I’m running low on chalk, someone fetch another box from the storeroom.”

“We should sedate her first, she’s a feisty one, did you see what she did to Henrikson?”

Their voices wash over him and he bristles, eyes fiery as ever at their purposeful use of the wrong words, but he’s got little time to dwell on them before someone comes up from behind to jab another needle in his neck. Instead of falling asleep, this time he simply feels heavy. His arms hang slack and his thoughts are slow, and it takes all of his energy just to glare at the scientists around him.

He’s in a thick daze when they all finally step away, far back from the edges of the circle, and that sour-faced man he so wishes would disappear kneels next to the circle, pressing his hands down against the edge of it.

There is a flash of crackling, purple-red light, arcing along the white lines on the floor like lightning jumping from one storm cloud to another. It’s bright enough to hurt Ash’s eyes, but his arms are too heavy to lift so he shuts them instead. He hears a scream and snarling, and his skin feels like it’s been lit on fire and he can do nothing to get away from the pain. The scream turns to sobbing before he realizes it’s his own voice making the noise. Everything hurts, so much so that he can’t yet open his eyes, and it’s all just intensely wrong in a way he doesn’t yet have the words for.

He feels, suddenly, like he’s being attacked from all sides by the sounds hitting his ears, by the scents in the air of candle wax, chalk, sweat, blood, and numerous other things, all combining to overpower his senses. He is afraid to open his eyes, afraid to find out what is really going on here, afraid that even if he sees he won’t understand.

Much too soon, he is forced to open them anyway by a hand shoving roughly at his shoulder, and when he does the world looks just slightly different. The room, which had been dim before and should be almost shrouded in darkness from the absence of the candlelight, was clear. Not so much illuminated as it was that Ash simply wasn’t hindered by the darkness anymore.

When he moves to feel his face, wondering if they’d done something to his eyes, he freezes at the sight of his hand. It is covered in thick, white fur, dappled with finger-spots like the big cats had been, and when he flexes his fingers instinctively he sees claws unsheathe themselves from what should have been his fingertips.

The scientist at his side, who had so roughly shaken him, is furiously and intently taking notes at a rapid pace, but Ash hardly notices him, focusing only on the gleaming weapons he’d been given. Then, as if by some kind of magic, the fur and claws fade, his hand shifting to return to it’s child-shape, and it is a moment before he realizes he’s been made to sleep again. He wakes in a new cage, with new people, some of whom he remembers from before they were taken, and for a moment hope fills his chest as he looks at all the faces around him. But Dolcetto is not here, and all he can assume is that his friend is gone forever. He refuses to let this new heartbreak temper his anger.

It does not take him long to realize the others in this cage are like him, they have been through the circle and were changed somehow, but he is still just a child and these are concepts beyond his understanding. Or at least they are until he sees one of the others suddenly burst into a hulking thing with gray skin and massive, blunt teeth that jut out of their face. They throw themselves against the bars of the cage, screaming in a voice that is a man’s and yet somehow... Not.

It’s several minutes before the scientists flood the room, but when they do they shoot something at the... Person? Monster? Ash doesn’t know what to call them, and somehow that is far scarier than knowing. The effect is almost instant, as the person falls to the ground, snoring. After a moment the change recedes, and they appear to be like any other man again. Knowing what they can become, what they all can become, sends a strange chill down Asher’s spine, and he has to fight the urge to burst into tears.

The man is quickly removed from the cage, taken to another room, probably to be left by himself. In Asher’s mind, it is fuel being added to the burning pyre of anger in his heart, and he stokes it in secret, content to bide his time until he has a chance to actually fight back against the injustices being inflicted in this cursed place.


	2. The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even in the darkest place, hope can still be found.
> 
> In which our protagonist grows and learns many things, the best of which is courage from an unexpected place.

Asher’s days shift, now, going from waiting for the other shoe to drop and either be killed or hurt, to waiting for a chance to make the scientists regret what they’ve given him. Unfortunately, after the incident with the man who, even after several days, has not been brought back, the men have grown more careful. There is always someone watching them as if the scientists themselves are waiting for something else to happen. Asher wishes something would happen, it would be better than this confusion and uncertainty. His senses have changed and it makes being trapped in a cell with so many other people with a myriad of different smells, both animal and human, a torture in and of itself. Some part of him just wants to run away from them all, or bite and scratch them, but he can’t do that because they are in the same situation as him and don’t deserve any more violence.

He takes to pacing the corner he’s carved out for himself, trying to stem off some of the extra energy he has that’s been steadily building up ever since he was put in that damned circle. Most of the others in the cage avoid him, put on edge by his movements, but a few attempt to be friendly. He shuts them down, each and every one, because if there’s one thing he’s learned in this place it’s that becoming familiar with people is only going to hurt him. They learn to leave him alone, though he can see the sad looks on some of their faces.

He’s still a child, after all, but he doesn’t much feel like one anymore.

Eventually, there is a change, as new people who each carry heavy-looking guns join the scientists, and then everyone in the cage is split into groups, chained together, and marched to a long hallway with a row of metal doors. Each group is sent through a different door, and when Ash’s group is shuffled through their door his fear spikes. It is just an unremarkable room, with strange alcoves built into the walls, each containing a mattress. It doesn’t take long for him to realize they are meant to live here, that those beds are for them, and even though it is a small thing he almost weeps at the thought of being able to sleep on something that isn’t the ground.

The people with guns are still there, still watching them as their chains are removed. As much as Asher longs to lash out at the nearest scientist, he stamps down the urge. The guns are for him and the others, he realizes, and he’s not ready to die just yet.

As he is nudged toward one of the beds and made to sit down on its edge, Ash does what little he has available to him, and glares resolutely at anyone who comes near. Which are more people than Asher wants near him, but they seem intent on making more notes, as always. He is subjected to poking and prodding; there is a doctor with the scientists and he takes blood, checks temperatures, measures various things on each subject they’ve brought in this little room. When he is done with that they are all made to strip and stand in a line while the doctor takes more notes and looks at them from different angles.

Asher shivers, cold and humiliated, and wanting nothing more than to disappear.

When the doctor is satisfied they are all given new clothes. They look like pajamas and are rough on Asher’s skin, but it’s an almost nice change after being stuck in the same dirty things they’d all been wearing for months on end. They are left alone, then, but the door is locked after all the men leave. They are trapped again. It is a nicer cage, but they are still in a cage. And Asher knows, without trying, that attempting to break the door would be a waste of time, and would likely only get him in trouble or killed.

Ash looks around their shared room, noting the small drain hole in the floor, the five other people in the room with him all sitting silently on their beds, and at the small basin in the corner of the room that he supposes might serve as a toilet. It is then that he realizes all the other people he’s been grouped with are young girls, roughly the same age as him, and understanding of it feels like a hot stone in his stomach. Somehow, of all the things that have been done to him, this assumption is the cruelest.

It is another log thrown onto the pyre, more fuel for his anger, and he locks it down inside.

They are left alone for what seems like an eternity, their quiet only interrupted once by a slot at the bottom of the door opening and their food for the day being roughly shoved in. They are used to being given their meals so callously, but what they are not used to is the change the meals have taken. Where before they had been made to subsist on soup and water, these meals are larger. There is meat, and vegetables and fruit, and a drink that looks like milk but doesn’t quite smell like milk. They cannot help but dig in right there where the trays lie, sitting on the floor next to each other.

Asher feels tense, and on edge, but the food is actually good and he almost starts crying from this small kindness alone. If it can even be a kindness, he doesn’t know, but regardless it’s nice. An awkward silence, broken by their sounds of eating, hovers over him and the girls, and then one of them belches. In seconds they are all giggling, like children their age are usually wont to do, and it brings a small warmth to Ash’s heart, proof that even in this there are still some small joys to be had.

They leave their empty trays by the door, stacked neatly per Asher’s insistence, and then they all climb onto their beds. Or they do for a moment until one of the girls sighs and goes to sit on the floor in the middle of the room, patting the floor beside her for the other children to accompany her there.

Asher holds back, watching them silently, but another girl tugs his hand and he is pulled to their group.

“How many here got mixed up with some kind of big cat?” The first girl asks, and as everyone slowly raises a hand, Ash included, he blinks in surprise.

“How’d you figure that?” He asks, and the girl grins.

“Been listenin’ to m’ nose is how n’ some a you’s have cat-eyes,” she states, and Asher has to admit he’s a little impressed. He hadn’t even noticed but, then, he’d also been trying to not pay too much attention to the others.

“Wish we knew what it all means,” he mumbles, hugging his arms to himself suddenly. The girl rolls her eyes.

“Well if you actually listen t’ what them guys wit’ them boards talk ‘bout, y’ might.”

“What’s that mean?” Asks another girl, crossing her arms.

“It means they been talkin’ ‘bout what they want t’do with us an’ none a y’all been payin’ attention. They think they’re makin’ an army a people who c’n turn into animals.”

“Why’d they take us then, we’re just kids?” Asher asks, turning to frown at the door. “What’re they gonna do, teach us to fight? They’re just makin’ it easier for us to turn on them soon as we get a chance. They’re stupid.”

The first girl, who’s entire tone had seemed teasing to Ash, grins even wider than before, and when Ash turns to look at her with steel in his eyes, he can tell that what he’d mistaken for teasing was actually anger. Anger that very nearly matched the flame burning in Asher’s heart. She understood.

“That’s exactly what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna break outta here, an’ they’ll never see it comin’, we jus’ gotta time it right. Make ‘em think we’re gonna do what we’re told, but we’re gonna be plannin’ every chance we can, t’ get outta this dump.” She states, in a voice that leaves no room for argument. Not that she gets one. Everyone in this room wants out of here, and if one of them can rally them all into working together to make that happen, it helps their chances. Asher is impressed and grins back at her.

“We should get some rest then. If they’re gonna teach us fightin’ it’s prob’ly gonna start tomorrow whenever they wake us up,” he suggests, already getting up to clamber onto his bare mattress. The others nod and follow suit, and Asher falls asleep with thoughts of rebellion in his mind.

He isn’t entirely wrong in his guess. When they are woken, it’s to the sound of banging on the door, and then the metal slot opens and trays are shoved in. It’s breakfast food this time, another change, and not just because it’s breakfast but because they used to only get one meal a day. They eat in quiet contemplation, wondering what other new things the day will bring. Sure enough, as soon as they’re finished eating, they’re shepherded out of the cell and into a wide room with squishy mats arranged around the floor.

Several other groups are brought in along with them, but they are still kept apart. Along the edges of the room, standing at attention in various spots, are some of the men with guns. Ash isn’t sure if they are soldiers of some kind, or just hired thugs for keeping them in line, but he keeps a wary eye on them just the same. And then they are arranged around the room at even distances from each other with a squishy mat in front of them, one mat per person.

They are guided through stretches, then slowed-down hand-to-hand combat moves made to repeat them over and over until they can copy them without error. And then they are made to repeat them some more until their muscles burn and are coated with sweat, and Ash feels as though he could sleep for a week with how tired he is. But they are only given a brief reprieve to eat lunch before they are put to work once more.

By the time the instructions are done Asher’s mind is in a fog of pain and fatigue, and when they’re ushered back to their little room, he can see on the girls’ faces that they feel just as muddled as he does. There are no confident exclamations of escape during dinner this time, none of them have the energy for talking, but Asher does his best to smile gently at each of them in turn in the hopes it will offer some comfort. He’s not ready to open up or talk of names or family, but a smile or two? That’s easy enough to do. He sings quietly as they drift to sleep, unsure if this song is for himself or all of them or both.

Their days continue in this fashion until, once more, Asher simply can’t keep track of how long it’s been. They learn new moves, new stretches, they learn to call upon their animal halves at will and control their senses to their full capabilities. They are stronger than when they started, older too, though Asher is unsure by how much for he’s very nearly forgotten his birthday. Most of the others have too. He still hasn’t learned any of the girls’ names, nor have they learned his, and he barely registers any numbers called out save for his own. They have a mild companionship, but he wouldn’t call any of them friends, nor does he want to.

They have all blossomed in their time here and this is a major discomfort for Ash, who does what he can to hide the changing shape of his body with what little means are available to him. It was bad enough, ages before when the bleeding had started. Though he’d been excused from training for that week he cried for a solid two days until the other girls had swarmed around him, trying to offer comfort, and he’d finally spilled his secret. They’d been surprisingly understanding ever since. But this new change, so far out of his control he would claw at his own skin if it would make it stop, this is worse.

He is almost grateful for the training that takes so much of his focus he isn’t able to think about the discomfort of his body. It’s a small blessing and one that makes him throw himself into every new thing they learn.

Eventually, though, as with all things, the newness wears off. The drills become repetitive as they cycle through everything they have already been taught.

Then he hears the whispers among some of the guards, who talk of other laboratories with other human-animal soldiers-in-training, but they specify one that suffered some kind of attack from the inside. Over the course of a week, Ash slowly gathers information. Animals were set free on some kind of wild rampage. A monster covered in black who stalked the halls. Test subjects escaping. Every new tidbit sends a thrill down Asher’s spine, especially when he hears that some of the men are afraid the demon in black might come to this lab as well. None of them want to lose their lives protecting a bunch of freaks of nature, after all.

Ash does not expect at all that who or whatever the demon was might come here to free them, but it gives him the incentive to pay more attention to what goes on around him. He makes note of which guards are where at any given time, pieces together when they do breaks and switch out, even notices one particular guard’s need for a piss at the same time every day. He even figures out which guards hold keys, keys that by now he has figured out can be used from inside their locked rooms, and, slowly, he compiles a plan.

When he tells it to the girls, two of whom look nearly old enough to be considered women now, they are filled with new hope, a new fire in their eyes. It’ll be difficult to set this plan in motion, they know, but with enough patience and determination, they believe they can pull it off. Even after Ash instills in them that failure might end in their deaths, they still believe.

Ash is seventeen when he and many others escape the lab. He doesn’t know he is seventeen, doesn’t know for a good long while, but that doesn’t ever bother him. His plan took almost a month to fully put in action, and there were some losses- more losses than he ever wanted because ideally, he had hoped everyone would get out- but the important part was that those who made it were finally free. He is satisfied in that much. He doesn’t find out the name of the city they come out in- that isn’t as important to him as finding out where he is in relation to Central City and then getting as far from it as possible- and he sets off on foot. By the time he is too tired and hungry to keep walking, he’s only made it as far as Dublith.

It’s not ideal, not by any stretch of the word, but it’s been days since he’s had a proper meal. Strong as he’s grown, even he can’t keep on like this on an empty stomach. Stumbling into the nearest business, a little butcher shop full of smells that set his mouth to watering, he makes it only a few steps in the door before he collapses, only vaguely aware of the gentle hands trying to shake him into staying awake before he slips into unconsciousness.


	3. A Universe Unsatisfied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our protagonist learns to feel human again, and finds new beginnings in an unlikely place.

When Asher finally awakes, he awakes in a panic, fear gripping his chest at the unfamiliar surroundings. He’s breathing hard, barely able to take in the contents of the room aside from the warm blankets and soft sheets he’s under and the sunshine peeking between white curtains. And the closed door separating him from whatever waits outside. He couldn’t remember where he was or how he might have ended up here, in fact, he could remember little else after that last mad rush out of the lab. And walking for what felt like days. His stomach growls, suddenly, and he’s grown so used to regular meals that he’s almost forgotten what it was like to be in a state of near-constant starving.

The hunger is what breaks him from his panic, it washes over him like a sudden, cold sweat and he’s dizzy from the change, sucking in a deep breath that brings the scent of spices and vegetables and meat to his nose. On a wooden stand beside the bed is a bowl, still steaming slightly, with a spoon next to it and a note with pretty, tidy handwriting on it. Ash ignores the note in favor of taking another deep breath, then pulling the bowl to him and digging in eagerly. It’s some kind of stew, with beef and potatoes, green beans, and spices he doesn’t know the name of, but it fills his belly and eases some of the panic still lurking underneath the fading hunger.

Only when the bowl is empty, licked clean in Asher’s overeager attempts to chase down every last drop and morsel, does he finally turn to the note and attempt to make some sense of the shapes and lines he barely remembers the names of. In his time in the lab he’d retained only a toddler’s grasp of reading and writing, losing most of the knowledge in favor of the combat training he’d been forced to learn. He realizes this could potentially be a problem in his quest for a normal, free life, but if he could find someone to re-teach him he is sure it wouldn’t be hard to learn.

Much to his relief, the note is not long or complex.

‘If you’re still hungry, come downstairs to the kitchen’ the note reads, ‘when you feel like talking, we’ll be here to listen.’

He’s confused at first, because how could they know that anything was wrong with him that he’d need to talk about it? And then he remembers that he is still wearing the clothing from the labs, mock pajamas that are cut up and dirty and even stained with blood in some places, though he’d tried his best to rub some of it out with dirt.

He remembers when he was younger, before... He remembers how his mother would remind him to bring his dirty dishes to the kitchen when he was done so she could clean them and grabs his empty bowl to take with him as he ventures out of the room. He finds a short hallway, with two other doors and the top of a set of stairs leading down at the other end. He’s nervous, about meeting the kind strangers who probably found him on the side of the road somewhere and just decided to take him in. He’s nervous that this is actually a trap, that he’s been tracked and found and is going to end up back in the labs and kept under even stronger locks and keys.

Tears prick his eyes, threatening to spill over, but he’s too wrecked to do anything to stop them, and his cheeks are thoroughly wet by the time he reaches the bottom of the stairs. He peeks into the first doorway he sees, following the familiar smell of the stew, clutching the bowl in his hands while tears still stream down his face. He’s so damn scared but the last thing he expects to see is a sandal-clad woman with dark hair pulled into many thin braid-like strands, and the large, imposing, bearded man standing beside her.

They don’t notice him at first, he’s too shell-shocked to speak and he can’t think past his tears anyway, but eventually, the woman turns, spots Ash huddled at the doorway with probably the most pathetic look on his face, and immediately takes a seat at a small, round table nearby, patting the spare seat next to her.

“Still hungry?” The woman asks gently, smiling despite the concern in her eyes. The novelty of it all makes Asher’s fragile emotions swell even more and his own expression twists. Into what, he doesn’t know, but it makes a choking, hiccup of a sound rush out of him, and his tears only come more forcefully. He’s been without proper kindness for so long that it overwhelms him.

In a second the huge man is beside him, carefully tugging the bowl from Asher’s tightly clenched hands and setting it aside to pull the boy into a hug, patting his back. He sobs into the man’s apron, fingers curling into the fabric for something sturdy to hold onto as he lets out eight years of pent up fear, anger, and the sadness he’d tried for so long to pretend didn’t exist. By the time his crying quiets, fading into the occasional hiccup, he feels wrung out, dried up even. His heart still aches for everything he’s lost and had to endure, but the release feels good. He feels lighter for having let some of it out.

He starts to pull away, so as not to leave the woman waiting, but the man gives him a gentle squeeze and shakes his head.

“You’re heart’s still racing, kid, you sure you’re good for walking after all that?”

Asher blinks, then nods, pushing back once more, and the man gives his back one more easy pat before releasing him. Ash wipes at his face with his sleeve, then makes his way over to sit beside the woman, who is beaming now, for some reason. Her eyes, though fierce in some way Ash can’t place, are also gentle, and when she holds out a hand across the table Asher doesn’t hesitate to place his in her open palm.

“How about we start with some names. I’m Izumi Curtis, a simple housewife who runs a butcher shop with my husband over there, Sig. What should we call you?” She says, and Ash is struck yet again by how kind these people are for taking him in when they know nothing about him. He could be a criminal for all they know, wanted and on the run, he could bring danger to their doorstep. And yet, they don’t seem to care or worry that that might be an option.

“Two four-” he chokes on the words, instinctive as they are wretched, before he remembers he’s not being asked for his number. He’ll never be asked for his number again. It sends a strange thrill through him. “-Asher. My name’s Asher. Ash, if you like.” The woman, Izumi, nods, gently running her thumb over Ash’s knuckles.

“You don’t have to tell me how you got here if you aren’t ready. You looked like you’d been through a lot when you stumbled into our door, and you’re welcome to stay as long as you like. I’ll have to insist on your help around the shop, of course. Nothing in life is free, room and board most of all, but if you’re willing to work hard I’ll let you stay, maybe even pay you.”

Asher feels like he’s going to cry again, but he’s calm enough to hold it back this time. He isn’t ready to talk, not by a long shot, but he’s more than happy to accept the woman’s offer. He feels safe here, safer than he’s felt in years, and whatever work Izumi finds for him to do couldn’t possibly compare to what he went through in the lab.

“I’d like that. Working, I mean. I don’t....” he fumbles for words, and it feels like grasping for sand. “I don’t know much ‘sides fighting, an’ I can’t read well, but if you show me what to do I c’n do it.”

“Good, I was hoping that’d be your answer, we could use another set of hands around here to help with cleaning up,” Izumi practically beams, standing and pulling Ash into a hug of her own, and Ash wheezes for a second before bursting into giggles, for her hug is intense and crushing compared to Sig’s, and for the first time in a long time, Asher feels like he could really like being here.

He settles into the new routine easily, and it’s calm and happy and he can almost forget the horrors he went through if this is the kind of existence the universe is allowing him to have now. Izumi and Sig are both pillars of strength in his life, and it takes only a month and a half for him to realize that he would claim them as a family if he was allowed to. He wants to claim them as family. Eventually, they talk, because he feels bad for not telling them what he is, what he came from, how dangerous he is. But they listen to his story with calm smiles and hugs for the parts that make his eyes go blurry, and by the time he gets it all out he feels... Better, somehow. And their odd little life continues.

Asher takes up baking, gets so good at it that Sig suggests selling some of his little pastries alongside their usual wares, and before Ash knows it he’s got a shockingly steady income coming in. People love his baked goods, and Ash gets the bright idea to invest in getting a whole shop for himself. He fully intends to save up his own money until he can find a place with a good space for a bakery, but Izumi shoots him down, insisting on them helping him get started and that he can simply pay them back from the profits he’s likely to make from having a whole shop full of baked goods for people to choose from.

For some reason, Ash is the only one shocked when that assumption comes true in just a few weeks. Luck seems to be favoring him lately, though he can’t explain why, he is thankful for it nonetheless. He has a cozy little shop, and above it is his own apartment, filled with furniture that Sig helped him pick out, and he even has a couple of cats he took in off the streets- strays who, like him, had nowhere else to go and just needed someone to show them love.

He’s only a small business owner, and though some people still look at him and see a child, he has made a name for himself in at least this part of the city. He’s busy, busier than he ever expected he’d be, but he’s happy too. He feels safe and at peace, and couldn’t ask for a better life.

But apparently, the universe is not satisfied.

He notices it one day when he’s in front of the shop, sweeping litter from the sidewalk, watering the plants he got to bring a little color to the outside. A smell that stands out amid all the city smells, something a bit like a man yet... Not. There’s a dog-ish scent, but it’s mixed so near evenly with the man-smell that it gives Ash pause, enough so that he looks up at a somewhat rowdy group strolling between the passersby. There are other mix-smells, and he can’t place what the not-humanness is, but that isn’t what makes him freeze up, eyes wide like he’s seen a ghost. And maybe he has. The hairstyle is different, shorter than he remembers, the curve of his cheeks has grown more angular without their boyish roundness. But his nose is the same, the way the corners of his mouth turn up when he smiles is the same, his eyes have the same conviction and gentleness.

Asher almost lets the moment pass him by, but his feet decide before his mind has caught up to the rest of him. His watering can is dropped and he is running to catch up with the group, almost not realizing what he’s even doing.

“Dol! Dolcetto!” he calls out, and his old friend stumbles like someone just punched him in the gut, swiveling quickly toward the source of the yell. Asher doesn’t stop running, not even when their eyes meet and he sees the recognition on Dol’s face. He only stops when he collides into Dol’s chest, arms automatically reaching as much around him as they can, and Dol is sent stumbling back a few feet from the force of it, putting his own arms around Ash as he regains his footing. Ash is crying and laughing at the same time, so full of joy at finding that his friend, who he thought he’d lost forever, was not dead at all.

“How did you-,”

“How long have-,”

They both try talking at the same time, laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation, and then simply take a moment to catch their breaths and grin fondly at each other before Dol finally speaks.

“Hey,” he says, and Ash thinks he could probably weep again just for hearing his voice, despite how much older and different it sounds. “You’re okay.”

“I thought they-,” but Asher can’t get the words out, it’s still too painful to remember what he’d thought had happened, and he shakes his head instead and heaves out a sigh, burying his face in the front of Dol’s shirt. “How did you get out?” He asks instead, not caring that his voice is muffled and Dol’s shirt is damp from his tears.

“Let’s go back to the Nest an’ we can talk, yeah?”

Ash doesn’t know what he means by ‘Nest’, but he lifts his face and nods anyway, grinning like a damn fool. “Lemme lock up first. Wait here.” He answers, then slips out of Dol’s arms and darts back to his shop. As quick as he’s able he picks up the dropped watering can and puts it away, brings all the flower pots inside, then starts putting away the pastries that would go bad if left out overnight. The open sign in the window is flipped around to display it as closed, and then he shuts down all the lights and locks the shop door, slipping the key in his pocket as he turns around. Dolcetto and his group- a short, muscular woman with a winding, green tattoo on her shoulder, a large man who reminds Ash vaguely of Sig except for the lack of a beard, and a tall, foreboding looking man with sharp features and a smile that struck Ash as nearly predatory- were waiting on the sidewalk, having apparently walked over here while Ash was busy inside the shop.

Ash grins again, a sudden realization coming over him as he remembers the stories of the ‘demon in black’ who liberated one of the other laboratories. But he doesn’t say anything, not out here in public anyway, he intends to wait until they’re safe at this ‘Nest’ of theirs before he starts asking any deep questions. He isn’t expecting it when Dolcetto puts his arm around his shoulders while they walk, but it’s a welcome gesture.

When they arrive Ash is a little surprised to find that they’re at a bar, “Devil’s Nest” displayed in blinking colors above the door, but he doesn’t have much time to dwell on it before Dol is pulling him inside, already starting to tell Ash a little bit about the place. About his home. By the time everyone is sitting down and ready for questions and explanations, Ash is squished on a couch between Dol and the man wearing all black who’s pants are leather, of all things, and ridiculously tight now that Ash is close enough to notice.

Everything is a little distracting, to say the least. The bar smells of cigarettes and beer and sweaty bodies, and the scents of Dol and his friends are interspersed throughout all of that, to the point it is almost too much for Ash’s sensitive nose. That, and having two warm bodies pressing on either side of him, made the felines inside of him want to close his eyes and purr until he fell asleep. He almost does too, not noticing the deep, contented rumble in his chest until mister tight-pants coughs suddenly.

Ash startles, nearly jumping off the couch until Dol pulls him back to his side with an arm around his waist, and then Ash realizes what he did.

“You, uh, were gonna tell me how you got out?” He asks, trying to ignore the embarrassment of slipping up like that in front of people.

“It’s okay, you know. You can be yourself here, this place is safe.” Dol pauses, trying to convey something that Ash doesn’t quite get right away. And then it hits him. All of these people must have come from a lab too. It would explain the weird scents on all of them, anyway. Asher turns slightly to grin at him.

“You’re avoidin’ the question, which is rude because I’m bettin’ it’s a really fuckin’ awesome story.” He’s teasing, just a bit, but Dol’s face goes funny and Ash’s smile fades. “Well, if you don’t wanna talk about it yet, that’s fine. ‘M sure everyone here has things they aren’t ready to talk about.”

“Nah, it’s not that. I just can’t tell this story, I wasn’t really awake for most of it. I shouldn’t have even made it I was so sick, but Greed,” here, Dolcetto gestures to his tall, sharp, friend, “he busted in and pulled us all out. Hell, if I’d known the name of the lab where you were at I would’ve asked him to go there and get you too, but, well...”

“I knew it!” Asher exclaims, and this time it’s Dol who nearly jumps out of his skin. Ash laughs. “We heard guards telling rumors all the time, most of the stuff was pointless, dumb shit, but it’s how we found out about the war... And about another lab getting broken into. They weren’t supposed to talk around us, but, after a while, people there stop thinkin’ of us like we’re people an’ they don’t censor themselves.

Anyway, we heard about a break-in, about a demon coated in black who swooped in and caused a bunch of chaos, and a load of people got out an’ they couldn’t figure out what had really even happened. I’m guessin’ your friend here is who the rumor is about, right?”

Dol nods, and then someone, presumably Greed, reaches out and ruffles Ash’s hair. It doesn’t register at first that the fingers scratching gently at his scalp feel more like claws than anything else, but the effect it has on Ash is instantaneous. He all but melts, going from energetic to calm in a matter of seconds, and settles back into the couch with a dazed look on his face, unable to stop the rumble in his chest that starts up again. As soon as it happens, Greed pulls away, and Asher is left blinking up at the man in confusion.

He almost looks... Embarrassed. 

“I forget sometimes you lot don’t like being blatantly reminded you’re part animal. That it’s demeanin’ or some shit. Don’t wanna make you uncomfortable here, you’re a friend of Dol’s and that makes ya my friend too by association.” He says, flashing Ash a toothy grin, who gives a small shrug in response, his gaze falling to the floor.

“I haven’t been around people much since I’ve been... Out. Working doesn’t count because I’m a different person behind the counter than I am by myself, and I dunno what my boundaries are because I... Well, that’s not important, really.” He can’t bring himself to tell them that he hasn’t had a friend since Dolcetto all those years ago, that, aside from the Curtis family, he just doesn’t allow himself to get close to people still. And, yes, he’s been doing just fine going on like this, but it was still, well, other people would find it sad, he is sure. “If you wanna scratch my head like that, it’s fine. It felt nice, anyway, so, no complaints there, heh.”

Dolcetto chuckles quietly at the admission, and Greed lets out a snort of a laugh.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Anyway, what I was trying to show you with that is this,” he quips, a sudden excitement in his voice that draws Ash’s attention back up from the floor. Ash is puzzled for a moment, and then Greed’s arm bursts into inky-blackness, the color spreading until it covers his whole arm. Ash can see now what he’d felt on his head, that the man’s fingers, now coated black, are curved in sharp claws at the ends. He lets out an impressed whistle at the display.

“Fancy trick. I can do somethin’ kinda like that.” At his words, Ash concentrates, and in the next moment his right hand, held aloft in front of him, seems to stretch. White fur bursts from the skin of his arm and hand, and soft, leathery pads erupt on his palm. Change complete, he grins, then flexes his hand just so, and five ivory claws unsheathe themselves from his vaguely paw-shaped hand. There’s silence at first, as everyone simply stares at him dumbfounded, and then everyone starts talking at once, voices overlapping slightly as they try to ask him how the hell he just did that.

“Did you get special training at the lab you were at?” the woman, Martel, he thinks he remembers someone saying earlier, asks, but he shakes his head.

“No, I... I would practice, when no one was watching us our little group would all practice. They stuck me in a room with a handful of girls who’d also been matched with... Some kinda big cat. And after we heard about the other lab getting broken into, we... Taught ourselves how to control our shifts, until we figured out we could single it out to specific areas of our bodies.” He shrugs again, letting his arm go back to normal. “It was a neat trick we used to amuse ourselves, aside from the real reason we taught ourselves to get so good at shifting, which was so we could do it as fast as possible. We also learned the guard rotations, who had keys to the rooms, where the animals were kept, whether it was possible to get into the ventilation system in the ceiling.

We spent a month preparing, not telling anyone outside our little group. By the time we were ready to put our plan into action... Fuck, I don’t really remember the details anymore, but, we basically did the same thing Greed did, to an extent. At night they left the training room dark and empty, and unguarded, and we’d stolen keys from one of the guards so sneaking out in the middle of rotation was no trouble at all.” He feels suddenly self-conscious, telling his escape to these people he barely knows, so he focuses on Dolcetto, on the warmth of his arm around him, and continues.

“The ceiling was lower there, and if we climbed on top of each other’s shoulders, we could reach the tiles and push one aside. We sent one up, and then helped the others climb up too, and then worked our way around the building until we got to the room with the animals. We waited for an opening to drop in where no one would see us, and then just, opened every locked cage. Then we slipped back up into the ceiling, went back to where all the people were held, and opened all of those doors too.”

He takes a deep breath, voice wavering on the last few words. They’d been so lucky, up to that point, but perhaps not cluing others into their plan had been what caused things to go... Less than perfectly satisfactory.

“We convinced about a third of them that it would be safer to go up into the ceiling, as we had done. That they’d be less likely to be seen, and if we closed all the doors back quickly, no one would know anybody was gone until we were out of the buildin’, at least. But some didn’t wanna listen, an’ they took off where they wanted an’ ruined the stealthy part of our plan. We didn’t have much choice at that point but to move as fast as we could, an’ hope we weren’t caught.”

His voice wavers again and he swallows hard past the lump in his throat at the thought of what he and many of the others had had to do.

“Those that followed, we got all of ‘em up in the ceiling, and they caught on pretty quick on the places you could put feet and hands without falling through, but when we got near the doors that we knew had to lead outside... We... You could just smell that somethin’ had gone wrong, an’ then I guess one of the guards cleaning up heard us moving above their heads. Somebody started shooting a gun, so those of us who didn’t get hit started pulling back tiles and dropping down after shifting. There was enough confusion that some of the guards ran instead of trying to fight us, but not all, and those we had to... Well, it was us or them, y’know?”

His hands are shaking, and his face is wet again. Even after telling Izumi and Sig this story hasn’t gotten any easier to tell. He doesn’t mention the people he killed to get out, doesn’t mention the bodies of those who decided not to follow who littered the hallway, doesn’t mention the overwhelming scent of blood that had left a coppery aftertaste in his mouth for days.

“I wish I could say most of us got out, but I honestly don’t know. Some made it out, but I wouldn’t know an exact number or percentage, I was too busy running and trying to get away myself to keep track of anyone after I was out in the sun again.”

Before he quite realizes it, Martel is up and in front of him and putting her arms around him, and the others follow suit, and Ash is yet again overwhelmed by the kindness of strangers. When they finally pull away, aside from Dol who still leaves an arm around him, Ash is calm enough to smile again.

No further comment is made on the retelling of his escape, none is needed and Ash is silently grateful for that. Instead, they pass the rest of the afternoon just talking. About each other, about the bar, about some funny thing that happened the other day, about Ash’s bakery. And Ash, scared as he usually is to let himself get attached to other people, feels a camaraderie with this ragtag bunch that he can’t really explain but very much enjoys. And when he’s yawning and realizing that maybe he ought to head home because it’s starting to get late, Greed sees the look on his face, laughs, and then tells him he should just stay here for the night.

Ash is uneasy about the idea at first, much as he likes these people he’s still not used to this level of socializing, but then Dol gives him an odd sort of look. It’s something between yearning and fear, and Ash understands it keenly, just somehow knows that his friend is a little afraid of letting him out of his sight. To be honest, he is afraid to let Dol out of his sight as well. The last thing he wants is to lose his friend after just finding him again.

So he stays. They bring a pillow and blanket out for him so he can sleep on the couch and, much to Asher’s amusement, Dol brings out some things of his own to set up a place to sleep on the floor beside the couch. And though Ash would have usually argued about something like that, because it feels rude somehow for his friend to be on the hard floor when he’s comfy, but Dol shoots the words down with a look before they can even leave Asher’s mouth. When he’s finally settled down and the lights have been shut off, and the two of them are alone, Ash feels like he might cry again. He’s so unbelievably happy that it’s almost hard to breathe, like his body is far too small for the range of emotion swelling within him, and when he turns to look at Dol his friend is watching him like he feels the same way.

An idea blossoms in Asher’s mind, and this time he has no hesitation, shoving his pillow onto the floor next to Dol then pulling his blanket around himself and following suit. Dol is shocked for a moment, but then he laughs quietly and reaches out to pull Ash closer. Except for the blankets, it’s almost painfully similar to their days in the lab, but Ash shoves that thought away and holds Dol tighter. Eventually, when he feels like he might be about to drift off, Dolcetto’s voice breaks the quiet.

“Do you still remember the songs?” He asks, and Ash grins. He does remember, he still sings as often as he can, sometimes for his cats, or when he’s alone in the shop and bored, still holding on to the pieces of his past that those horrible people weren’t able to take from him. No one would ever take his songs.

“Yeah. Why d’you ask, you want me to sing something?”

Dolcetto nods, shifting slightly so Ash has room to breathe.

“Missed your voice,” he admits, voice slightly strained. Ash unwinds one of his arms so he can twine their fingers together, squeezing gently as he starts to sing.


	4. Domestic Bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our boy finds himself made an honorary Nest-member, and experiences a glimpse of what it means to be part of this oddball little family.

Roa fixes breakfast the next morning, scrambled eggs with strips of bacon and thick syrup, and though Ash is definitely going to be late opening the shop today, he doesn’t mind. No mention is made of how Ash and Dol were found, huddled together under their blankets on the floor, but several people send knowing glances toward the pair as they all enjoy breakfast. Ash doesn’t notice. Dol is a constant warmth at his side, laughing and joking, and Ash doesn’t think life could get any more perfect than this. When it comes time to leave, Dolcetto is reluctant, but Ash has a business to run.

“You can’t leave it for just one day?” he asks, and Ash is almost amused by the near-whine in his tone.

“Not without lettin’ my customers know, no. That would be kinda irresponsible, don’t’cha think?”

When he relents with a huff they are interrupted by Greed’s sharp, booming laugh, and a suggestion for Dol to go along that surprises Ash.

“Don’t you need him here?” he asks, and Greed chuckles, pulling them both into a hug.

“Not as much as he needs time with you. He’ll be distracted if I try makin’ him work today, but maybe you can get some use outta him if he’s not too busy tryin’a be a friggin’ lap dog.”

“Real funny, boss, like I haven’t heard that joke a hundred times before,” Dol huffs, shoving out from under the taller man’s arm.

“Aw, come on, puppy, I’m jus’ teasin’,” Greed reels him back in, and though he protests slightly, Ash can see the fond grin on his face. This ragtag group really is like a family, he thinks, and the fact that even after only one day he already feels like he’s part of it warms his heart.

When they are finally free from Greed’s vice-like grip, and breakfast is cleaned up, the two finally set off. Ash is a little amused that Dol insists on keeping his sword with him, but it’s a fond amusement, and he’s got a slight grin plastered to his face their entire walk to the bakery. When Dol gently takes hold of his hand, Ash makes no comment, only gives a squeeze that prompts the man to hold on tighter. And when they pass by the butcher shop and Sig spies them through the window with a grin, giving a little shake of his head, Ash just waves with his free hand and they continue on.

He knows how they must look, walking hand-in-hand down the sidewalk and occasionally leaning into each other, but he knows they are simply friends, trying to catch up after a lifetime of horrors and pain. Trying to chase this bit of happiness as far as it will take them. Two children who the world tried to break, but they found each other in the darkness and held on despite everything that was thrown at them. Ash doesn’t know much about poetry, but he feels like this might qualify as good material for it.

Arriving at the bakery, Ash settles into his morning routine, letting Dol simply watch as he putters about, resetting the plants outside, starting up the coals for the brick ovens in the back, re-shelving the pastries he’d put away the afternoon prior. He tallies up the register while he’s behind the counter, which isn’t something he normally does in the morning, but in his rush the day before he’d forgotten to do it. All the while Dol watches from the backroom doorway, radiating fondness.

Eventually, Asher tugs Dol with him to the back, intent on showing his friend how to make bread before the day is through. He shows him his technique, how to fold flour into the dough, the proper kneading motion. Dol watches in rapt fascination, trying his best to copy Ash’s actions but he’s not as practiced and his movements are somewhat clumsy. Ash laughs, adjusts the placement of Dol’s hands, then shows him again. Before long they have a loaf each, ready to be set aside so the yeast can rise. Ash puts a few already oven-prepared things in to bake, then heads back to the front of the shop, Dol in tow, and finally flips the sign from closed to open.

A few of Asher’s customers recognize Dolcetto from the bar, being regulars there, and though a few of them make idle comments asking if Dol is sweet on him, causing the man to glare at the offender, most are decent enough to keep their thoughts to themselves. Ash thinks the questions silly, but can’t help the embarrassed little blush that makes an appearance every time someone makes an assumption about his personal life like that.

By the time it’s time to close up, Ash has a dusting of flour in his hair and on his face, there are bits of dough stuck to his apron in tiny, hard clumps, and Dol looks just as worse for wear, his usually spiked hair slightly disheveled. There’s a bit of strawberry puree dried on his nose, and before they head out, Ash instinctively licks his thumb and wipes it off him before opening the door and starting to head out. He doesn’t see the sudden, unexpected flush on Dol’s face in reaction. This time, as they walk back to the bar, Dol doesn’t take his hand, but Ash doesn’t think much of it, just happy to walk in companionable silence together.

Back at the bar, Ulchi insists on teaching Ash how to play cards, which goes over about as well as Ash expects it to. He loses ten games in a row and decides to gracefully bow out, at which point Martel drags him with her to help set up the bar for opening time while Greed steals Dolcetto away to grab supplies from the storeroom for restocking. By the time they come back Martel is showing Ash how to mix drinks behind the bar, which Greed finds so amusing that he lets Ash stay to help her when patrons start trickling into the bar. The night seems to pass in a slow blur, and yet too quickly, and before Ash knows it Dol and Roa are shooing people from the bar so they can lock up.

Ash is exhausted, but it’s a pleasant feeling, knowing the day was spent among friends, learning new things and having new experiences. He catches Dol staring at him from across the room, watching him sweep, and flashes a wide smile, sticking his tongue out teasingly. Dol just shakes his head, grinning back. Greed watches the interaction with a knowing, calculated look, but Dol catches his gaze when Ash isn’t looking and just gives a subtle shake of his head, a sort of sad look coming over his face for a moment before it’s replaced with a grin before Ash can notice.

Before Ash can finish, Greed takes hold of Dolcetto’s arm and leads him out to the hallway then down to the storeroom where Ash can’t overhear.

“What’s goin’ on, Dol? I know that fuckin’ look, don’t try an’ tell me I don’t. I’ve lived that damn look and you’re an idiot if you aren’t gonna do anything ‘bout it,” he states, and even as Dol opens his mouth to say something, to refute his boss’ words, he falters. Because he’s right. But he can’t do anything with this, not yet. Ash has been through so much and they’re clearly just friends, the last thing he wants to do is mess that up somehow and ruin whatever this is that they have. He’s happy enough to settle for that if it means Asher being happy. Being safe.

“Oh, come on, don’t make me fuckin’ say it-” Greed starts, but Dol holds up a hand, cutting him off.

“We’re _friends_ , boss, that’s it. An’ I’m perfectly fine with that, I don’t need anythin’ else as long as he’s happy.”

“Listen to you, you really have it bad, don’t you?”

“I’d rather not have an argument about this. I’m not sayin’ anythin’, it’s too soon to be rushin’ things.”

“That’s bullshit an’ you know it. Fine, you wanna be a fuckin’ limp ass, be my guest. I’ll tell him _for_ ya.”

“Don’t you fucking dare, that’s for me to decide, no one else.” Dol was mad now, glaring up at Greed with all the venom in his eyes he could muster. Loyal as he was to his employer, this was one thing he had to put his foot down on. It wasn’t Greed’s place to give away that information, no matter how stupid he thought it was to keep it from Ash. It felt like an implication, almost, that Dolcetto wasn’t strong enough to do this himself, and he growls slightly before speaking. “Yes, I love him, but I love him enough to let him be happy as is. I’ve loved him for years and I’m not gonna mess this up by jumping the gun before he’s had time to adjust to being part of our family- and don’t you give me that look, we’re a fuckin’ family whether you wanna admit it or not. Now who’s being an idiot?”

Greed sighs heavily, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I still think you ought to tell him. Might not be as awful as you’re thinkin’. He might even love you too.”

Dolcetto doesn’t offer a response, instead heading back upstairs to finish helping with closing the bar. And when Ash beams at him from across the room, dancing with the broom to the beat of some song on the radio Roa had turned on, he tries to ignore the aching in his chest as it swells with emotion. Instead he grins back, pulling the broom from him so he can take its place, putting his hands in Asher’s and matching his swaying as they laugh together. And he knows he’s lost, that he shouldn’t entertain the possibility even inside his head, but he can’t help it. Ash makes it so easy to love him, so effortless to get lost in those ruby eyes, and Dol can hardly breathe when they’re focused on him and flashing bright with joy.

It aches, he loves him so. But, still, this is enough. He’s happy enough that Ash is happy, that he can smile like this and not have to worry about cages or doctors anymore. He tells himself it is enough. It has to be.

Ash is oblivious. Happy, yes, but deeply oblivious to the turmoil lurking just beneath the surface of his friend’s joyful demeanor. He doesn’t know how to dance, not really, but the beat is good and his feet want to move and here is Dol, dancing with him. When the song ends, Asher leans on Dol’s chest with his head on his shoulder, out of breath and laughing still. He stays this way for a long moment, feeling carefree and full of warmth, until his giggles fade away and he simply feels... Content. Dol is still swaying gently- a new song has come on but he isn’t matching its beat, just rocking side to side- and Ash turns his head slightly, lifting it so he can get a better look at Dol’s face.

His expression is subdued, contemplative even, and though Ash can’t figure what he’s thinking, he likes it. Dol catches his eyes on him, and for a moment Ash sees a glimpse of something- he wears the face of a man who’s drowning and doesn’t care or have the sense to stop and tread water- and then the look is gone and he’s smiling that soft smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes.

“You should probably get back home soon,” he says, voice soft, and Ash has an inkling that he doesn’t want him to go, but he has his cats to feed and wants to actually get up early in the morning. And he doesn’t really want to make a habit of sleeping on the bar’s floor.

“I’ll walk him home.” Greed’s voice interrupts their moment, and Ash blinks in surprise. He hadn’t even noticed the other man walk up. Dolcetto’s face suggests he wants to argue, but Greed has a funny look on that leaves no room for contradiction. “Don’t worry, ‘m not gonna spill any of your secrets.”

Ash doesn’t know what to make of this interaction, aside from being amused by it, but he gives Dol one more long hug then makes his way to the entrance. He’s briefly stopped by Bido, who clambers out from behind the bar where he’d been cleaning off the counter and gives Ash a quick, one-armed hug, before going back to his work.

“Have a good night, Ash!”

Ash nods, grinning, then steps outside. It’s grown slightly colder since the sun went down, and there’s a chill in the air, but Asher relishes it. It’s crisp and fresh after being stuck inside all day, and he breathes in deep as they start off for his home. Greed is silent for a little while, hands shoved impossibly into pockets on his pants that, frankly, Ash hadn’t even known existed, but after a while he finally speaks.

“You seem to get on well with everyone. Makes me glad. We’re an odd bunch, but Dolcetto likes to say we’re a family an’ I can’t argue with that. It’s good you fit in so easily.”

“You think so? That... It makes me glad, too,” Ash’s voice is small in the quiet, and he fiddles with the edge of his jacket absently. “Can I tell you somethin’?”

He glances up at Greed, and finds that the man doesn’t look surprised in the slightest. Amused maybe, but not surprised at the sudden wish to impart some information. “Go ahead.”

“I thought he’d died, y’know. Back when...” Ash has to suck in a sharp breath. He hadn’t talked about that part of his time in the labs with anyone, not even Izumi and Sig, and even though he knew now that Dol was alive and well, it was still difficult to say. “He was the first friend I made in that place. The only friend. After they took him away and he didn’t come back, I was so afraid that they’d hurt him so badly he’d died.”

Greed makes no comment, waiting for him to continue.

“I...” Ash pauses again, uncertain and awkward and a whole mix of emotions he can’t really piece together. “I wish I could put in words how thankful I am. My heart feels fit to burst when I try, because I think of how things might’ve gone if it weren’t for you. Dolcetto could be dead or worse, I could’ve been forced into bein’ a soldier, so much could’ve ended different.”

He heaves a shaky breath, clenches fists that are trembling with the weight of his thoughts, and then an arm loops around his shoulders as Greed gently tugs him along. His warmth at his side is a comfort, and he leans into the taller man slightly. A quiet settles over them and they walk this way for several minutes. Ash listens to the sounds of the city, letting his senses spread out as he takes in the other sounds his sensitive ears can pick up, not truly pinpointing anything, but reveling in the freedom of it.

“Thank you for saving them,” he says, but what he means is ‘thank you for saving _him_ ’.

Greed’s arm gives a squeeze, as if he knows what’s really meant by those words. All too soon the bakery comes into view, and, strangely, Asher is almost sad to see it though he can’t place why.

“Don’t think that boy knows how much he means to you. Not even sure _you_ know how much he means to you. But I can tell you that you mean just as much to him. And since I take care of what’s mine, of what’s important to my family, that includes you now. You ever need anything, I better be the first to know, got it?” Greed says, pulling his arm away to ruffle Ash’s hair, who snorts at the odd request, but nods anyway. It feels strange to have this much joy in his life, after so long being without, but it’s the best kind of oddity. One he hopes to never grow tired of.

He pauses with his key halfway out of his pocket, deliberating internally, but then when Greed grins and nods, turning to start the walk back to the bar, something inside Ash decides for him. Before his boldness can slink away he darts to Greed’s side and throws his arms around him, hugging him fiercely for a moment before darting back to the shop door and letting himself in. Tears prick at his eyes again as he risks a glance out the window, watching Greed as he stands strangely still for a second. Then the man laughs, running a hand through his hair as he starts the walk home, and Ash breathes a tiny sigh of relief, glad that the gesture had been appreciated.

As he heads upstairs to his apartment, then sets about getting ready for bed, feeding the cats and himself, then finally curls up in his bed with his blanket wrapped around him, his thoughts swirl like a sandstorm. So much has happened in such a short time that it’s hard to pick apart his feelings beyond the obvious happiness. But it’s okay. He’ll take happiness over everything else he’s felt in his life so far, and if everything else is still a little confusing and hard to pinpoint, that’s fine. He doesn’t have to chase those answers yet, not when there’s no reason to search for the questions leading to those answers, whatever they may be.

Whatever else he might feel isn’t terribly important, not yet, and he is content as is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kinda short, I know, but I wanted to keep things mostly light. Let them all be happy, you know. The next chapter is probably also going to involve a lot of domestic feels as well. Also, thanks to everyone who's left kudos! I'm glad you guys are enjoying following Asher's story and I'm excited to share all the big plans I have for my boy!
> 
> Questions and comments are super appreciated, and for anyone who might be a member of the fma rp fandom, you can interact with Asher on his blog flames-and-starlight on tumblr! Or if you just want to send him random questions, that's fine too! He is an ever-developing character as of right now, and I don't have a strict plot lined up just yet as I'm still bouncing around a few different ideas, but I'm very grateful for everyone sticking around for this ride!


	5. Be still, my foolish heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like a lost puzzle piece, newly found, Ash finds himself fitting in far better than he thought.

Asher’s new routine falls into place naturally, easily, and it becomes almost second nature for him to head to the bar after closing up the bakery, interspersed with the occasional visit with Sig and Izumi to let them know how things are going. The first visit after Sig’s spotting of him and Dol goes exactly as Ash would have expected, and it’s all he can do to deter Izumi from seeking out this bar, despite Ash not having given a name yet, all so she can meet this ‘handsome fellow’ as Sig had described him. Even after insisting they’re old, childhood friends- which draws an odd sort of look on Sig’s face because he knows where Ash must have met him and what that means- Izumi still shares a fond, knowing glance with her husband. The two of them had been there once, and while neither of them sees the sense in ignoring the obvious, they don’t push.

They knew their boy would come to the realization in his own time. He was still young, still figuring things out in a world full of people who couldn’t possibly hope to understand him and what he’d been through. But that he’d found one person who did, who intimately knew the horrors Ash had faced, it brought them great joy that they had each other. Regardless of what their friendship bloomed into, _if it bloomed into anything_ , they were simply glad Ash had other people in his life to care about him. It made them worry just a little less about his future.

As for Asher himself, it doesn’t take him long to realize just how fond of his new family he is. How everyone brought something special to the group. They were all so different, but they still fit together so easily, like puzzle pieces. And even though Ash sometimes felt like a missing piece that had been found long after all the other’s had been put together, it was still a joy to be part of something complete.

And the more time he spends with them, the more he learns about them, loving every moment of it. Roa is responsible for all of the Nest’s meals and is adamant about everyone having a solid three of them a day, and is also something of a medic, though was never technically trained. He knows enough of the basics for rudimentary patching up, and Ash is a little shocked to find out about the more lucrative business that Greed conducts behind the scenes. While no details are ever brought up, Ash gets the impression that the man has his claws in more aspects of the city than he’d previously thought, but he doesn’t question it too much.

He worries about Dol getting hurt, about all of them getting hurt, and is reminded that that is what Roa is for while Greed jokes about being a shield enough for all of them.

Roa also enjoys reading, and when he shows Ash his collection of books the young man expresses his displeasure at his lack of skill and is immediately taken under the gruff man’s tutelage. And while he’s not well-versed in teaching technique, he more than makes up for what he lacks with the joy of being able to share this interest with Ash. In turn, Ash shares some of his favorite baking tips, and often ends up helping him in the kitchen.

Ash learns that Ulchi likes to flirt with many of the women that frequent the bar, and then, much to his delight, quickly figures out that inserting himself into the man’s conversations and referring to him as an older brother often makes the ladies fawn over him even more. Ulchi never objects, preening under the attention, but it takes him a few weeks to figure out that Ash actually means the sentiment he gives in calling him a brother. He also discovers, one night when he’s helping take trash out to the bin in the back alley, that Ulchi likes to sing when he steps out for a break. Ash finds him sitting on one of the wooden boxes stacked outside, back against the wall of the building as he sings under his breath. His excitement at this discovery is instant, and he asks the burly man to teach him new songs, eager to also share the ones from his homeland that he still remembers.

Eventually he even convinces him to sing in front of the others, something he’s never done before, and Greed is quick to turn that particular evening into an unplanned party night.

Martel is, out of all of them, the most subdued. She’s quiet as she goes about her work and day-to-day endeavors, and Ash is made shy by it at first, unsure how to approach the woman until Dol explains, in not so many words, that she puts more stock in actions than words. So Ash pays attention during the quiet moments spent together helping her behind the counter or cleaning up after the bar closes. She, like Dolcetto, has an eye for spotting troublesome patrons long before they’ve caused any problems, and once Ash picks up on it he quickly becomes the one to go to either Ulchi or Roa, depending on who’s working the door that night, and inform them on who to keep an eye on or immediately kick out.

Ash learns that Greed likes to mingle with the patrons- whether it be drinking or dancing, or simply lounging on the couch with one or two of the pretty girls whose attention Ulchi hadn’t managed to snag. Not that Ash is surprised by this. Greed has a magnetic personality, and he can’t deny that the man is attractive, but Ash supposes that what draws people to him the most is his subtle compassion. He takes time to ask regulars how they’re doing, what’s going on in their lives, and he greets new customers warmly, and always has a grin on his face unless dealing with someone causing problems. He’s likable in a way that almost surprises Ash, given his name, and he seems to give so much of himself he walks through the bar like a storm.

And then there’s Dol, always laughing and joking with his coworkers, his family, but growing stern when a patron’s had too much to drink. He’s the first to break up fights, the first to notice when a customer makes Ash uncomfortable with an offhand comment or when some drunk idiot gets a little too handsy and has to be escorted out. He’s always the first to check on Ash throughout the nights he visits, and make sure he’s doing alright. 

Ash sits outside with him one night when he steps out to smoke tobacco from his pipe, and leans against his shoulder while he watches the smoke drift up and away. The evening is clear and cloudless, and he can almost make out a spattering of stars against the ink-black sky. Dol’s even breathing beside him is calming to the point that Asher could drift off if he let himself. He goes as far as letting his eyes drift closed, focusing on Dol’s breaths, on his heartbeat. Dolcetto taps out the pipe when he’s done, then glances at Ash beside him. His hair looks like silver in the moonlight, and Dol has to resist the urge to reach up and run his fingers through the strands. He’s almost jealous, in this instance, of Greed and his carefree attitude toward physical affection.

To Dolcetto, such a gesture is too intimate for him to confidently pull off without cracking, and spilling his heart out. And he’s not ready to do that yet, may not ever be ready. Not unless Ash gives any indication that his own feelings go in any way beyond friendship.

When Ash finally opens his eyes Dol has already turned away, but neither of them move to get up and go back inside.

He feels like they’re in their own world, frozen in time and preserved.

And then the back door of the bar creaks open, and Martel pokes her head out. “Hey, there you guys are. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Dol says, shaking himself slightly and standing. Ash sits for just a moment longer, watching the way the dim glow from the streetlamp just outside the alley makes it look like Dol is framed in a halo of fuzzy light. The words ‘you’re beautiful’ almost slip from his mouth before he catches himself, realizing how silly that would sound, and instead he simply smiles and follows him inside. The cleaning-up portion of the evening is almost finished, but Dol jumps right in to help with what’s left. There’s not much else for Ash to help with, so he settles for sitting cross-legged on the couch and watching, until Bido hops over the back of the couch to sit beside him.

Bido, out of all of them, took the least getting used to, even with the tail. Ash finds him to be most like himself out of everyone, and he takes comfort in it, already having spent countless hours sharing stories from the labs that before Ash hadn’t been able to talk so freely of. But Bido made him feel safe in sharing his experiences. Which is not to say the others didn’t, but they weren’t as comfortable in sharing or hearing as Bido was. The only thing Ash was surprised about, really, was that the small man had pulled him so easily out of his shell.

Sure, the story of his escape had come easily enough, but Bido had managed to pull even some of the more painful memories from Ash without them hurting as much as he always expected they would. And, yes, they still hurt, but Bido encouraged the telling, reminding Ash that it was the painful things that deserved to be told even more, so they wouldn’t be forgotten and repeated. And that painful memories were like a poison, and the best way to start healing was to draw them out so they didn’t fester and rot. There was an odd sort of wisdom to it, Ash had to admit. It also helped that Bido had the most calming nature out of all of them, so that telling him painful memories meant the man would be consoling him every step of the way, encouraging him to get the words out.

Tonight, though, Bido has a curious air about him, and it’s unusual enough for Ash to pick up on it, but not place what it’s cause is, even when the man is leaning heavily on him for a hug that ends with Bido halfway in Asher’s lap with his arms crossed behind his head.

“You love Dolcetto,” he states, and it’s clear the comment is a statement and not a question because his tone leaves little room for argument. But either Ash does not understand the intent or is choosing to ignore it when he replies.

“Of course I do, he’s my best friend. I love all of you guys, you know.”

Bido’s answering stare is one of confusion, and Ash’s smile wavers, confusion of his own creeping onto his face, and it’s then that Bido realizes that Asher really doesn’t know. It’s almost sad, really, but as quickly as it came the confusion ebbs away and Bido grins again.

“ _Good_.” He says. It’s only a mild surprise that Ash is so clueless about this, Bido realizes after thinking about it a moment. He wasn’t taught romantic love or how to recognize it, and he only has an understanding of what it feels to love your family and be loved in return, so it makes sense that a matter of the heart would be hard to distinguish when you’ve never been told the signs. And, sure, he’s been around people in love, he knows what it looks like with other people, but in his own relationships, he’s clueless. The signs aren’t there because he was never taught to read them, even though they were obvious to everyone else.

But worst of all is that Dol is always adamant about not discussing his own feelings whenever one of the others brings the topic up, and that’s a fact that Bido still hasn’t figured out. Dol has always been a private man, though, so it’s not really much of a surprise. Even so, he still doesn’t understand the dancing around when the two of them clearly care for each other.

Bido isn’t one for hatching plans, that’s usually Greed’s department, but he is a spy, first and foremost, and he knows how to be sneaky in pushing things to a certain goal. If he can get the others involved, this whole problem might be easily solvable. And if he can get Greed involved they’ll be no stopping these two from finally being happy. Which is really all Bido wants, for his friends to be happy together. Heaven knows they both deserve it.

“You’ve got your sneaky face on, who’re you plannin’ on pranking this time?” Ash asks suddenly, staring curiously at him. A grin stretches on Bido’s face and he winks, but says nothing, which is all Ash needs to know that this prank is probably going to involve himself. He chuckles lightly, amused, and rolls his eyes. He isn’t going to worry too much about it, Bido’s pranks were always harmless and usually pretty funny, so he is curious to see what his friend has planned. But those are thoughts for future Asher. Right now he has a comforting weight on his lap and his thoughts have turned sluggish, a pleasant fog settling over him that he knows will quickly turn to sleep if he stays like this, but he can’t be bothered to care much right now.

“Hey, Bee?” Ash asks suddenly, a thought coming to mind that, ordinarily, he would have shoved away as soon as it came to him, but with Bido here it feels safer to entertain than it normally would. Bido turns, wrapping his arms around Ash’s middle at the change in his friend’s tone and anticipating the soon-to-come need for comfort.

“Yeah?”

Ash swallows hard suddenly, already feeling the burn in his eyes from tears threatening to spill.

“Do you think... You think my mom an’ dad would be proud of me?” His voice has gone quiet, and he seems to freeze up, expression twisting into something even Bido can’t place. But he’s not worried.

“Why wouldn’t they?” Bido asks, turning his head and pressing his face gently against Ash’s stomach then squeezing. Ash shrugs, and Bido squeezes again at the movement.

“I don’t remember their names anymore... This morning I woke up and couldn’t remember their faces clearly. Even now the memories are... Blurred. What kind of a person forgets what their own parents look like?”

A quiet settles over the room while Bido thinks of his answer, and Ash realizes with a growing unease that work must have finished. And everyone can hear. A mix of shame and fear floods his system, and if not for the weight of Bido in his lap holding him down, Ash would have bolted from the building.

Before Bido can form a response, however, two large hands come down to rest on Ash’s shoulders, pushing down just so.

“Someone who’s been through hell and back and still came out soft and gentle and full of love in spite of all the pain.” Roa’s voice and words wash over him like a balm, and he chokes out a shaky laugh, sniffing.

“Wish it di’n’t make me feel so bad,” he mumbles, swiping at his face with his sleeve and sniffing again, resolutely ignoring the tears that want to fall. Bido sits up enough to throw his arms around Ash in a proper hug, butting his head against his shoulder, and Ash hugs him back.


	6. A Simple Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greed springs an odd request, and Ash sees little reason to refuse. He only has to pretend to be dating his best friend, after all, what could go wrong?

“I’ve got a favor to ask,” Greed’s voice carries across the shop and Ash squints at him. If he’s showing up at the bakery like this, he knows it must be serious. The man didn’t usually come to pester Ash while he was working, understanding somehow without being told that he didn’t much care for being bothered when he was busy.

“What sort of favor?” Ash asks, wary and nervous and _suspicious_ of what Greed has planned. He doesn’t like the tone in his voice, it’s mischievous and makes it clear there might be something about this that Ash is definitely not going to like.

“I’ve got a business trip I need your help with. Dol is too fuckin’ surly to send on his own, he needs somebody suitably adorable to make him blend in, temper out the seriousness an’ murder-vibes he gives off, y’know?” Greed is leaning across the counter, toying idly with the ribbon on one of the many jars of honey Ash bought as stock to go with the biscuits that had been selling so well lately. Ash swats at his hand lightly.

“You sure we’re talkin’ about the same Dolcetto?”

“He’s different on a job, but if you go with ‘im...” Greed shrugs, grinning slyly. “You’ve got him wrapped ‘round your finger, hotshot. Whether you know it or not, you do. An’ I need him calm and focused for this. All you gotta do is go along an’ keep bein’ your cute self.”

Ash squints harder, still suspicious about this sudden request. “Nothing dangerous?”

“Don’t take me for a fool, kid. You really think Dol would agree to you goin’ anywhere with him if he thought you wouldn’t be safe?” At that statement, Ash relaxes a little. He’s still unsure, but Greed has a good point. Dol was a bit of an overprotective friend sometimes, and had made it clear early on that he didn’t want Ash getting involved in any of Greed’s more sordid business shenanigans, and Ash had wholeheartedly agreed with him.

Greed’s hand drifts toward the ribbon again and Ash swats at it more forcefully. “Paws off the merchandise unless you’re buyin’, _pretty boy_. Now, what exactly do you mean by just goin’ along to look cute? That’s kinda vague and I’m not really understanding what you’re askin’ me to do here.”

Greed huffs, fishing the necessary cens out of a pocket and dropping them on the counter before pulling the jar toward him, then locks Ash with an amused stare who simply raises an eyebrow at his odd display.

“ _Weeeell_ -” he all but drawls, lifting his new possession and tilting it to watch the way the viscous, golden liquid inside slides about. “-you’ll be, uh, masquerading as a couple on holiday.”

Ash blinks, stares a moment, then makes an odd little confused noise in the back of his throat, like a questioning, trill-chirp of a cat.

“That a yes, then?”

This time Ash gently smacks the top of Greed’s head- in his current position he can actually reach it for a change- and gives a huff of his own. Greed laughs.

“You promise there won’t be any fighting?”

“Promise.”

“...Okay.”

This time it’s Greed’s turn to be surprised, but it only lasts a moment before his face is stretched into a wide, toothy grin.

“Great, I’ll tell ya more when you get to the bar tonight. Uh, we can discuss it later, but if you wanna leave me the keys to your place while you’re gone I can send someone to make sure your little furballs get fed and whatnot.”

Ash nods, waving as Greed pushes away from the counter and saunters out of the bakery, clutching his jar of honey like it’s some kind of prize. He passes the rest of the day in an odd haze, feeling electric and antsy, and when closing time comes it’s a relief. He doesn’t know exactly how long this trip Greed has in mind is going to take, but to him a holiday sounds like it might take a week at the very least. So he heads upstairs to his apartment to go through what things he might take with him. He doesn’t have a bag for packing anything in, but supposes he can just stop by the butcher shop and see if Izumi has something he can borrow, though he’s a sneaky suspicion that Greed may already have a bag ready for him to use, preemptively assuming Ash’s answer would be yes before even asking.

He sets aside several outfits, folding them neatly on his bed to consider later, then shoes the cats from his bedroom so they don’t have a chance to mess them up while he’s gone.

By the time he steps through the bar’s entrance, he’s got a wry little smile on his face, and the odd, knowing glances from everyone is all he needs to know that Greed’s already told them he’d do this. He feels silly, truth be told. It’s likely not even going to be for as long as he’s imagining, and it probably won’t even be hard to pretend they’re together. A little hand holding, doing things together- that could be any old day for them, there’s nothing out of the ordinary or exceptional about it, so there’s no reason to suspect any difficulty. But this is Greed, and Ash is well aware he likes to make things difficult sometimes, just because it’s more interesting that way.

“Ash! Hey! Heard you’re going on a little date.” Martel’s teasing voice calls from behind the counter, and Ash’s face goes red.

“It’s only a pretend date, don’t make it weird,” he groans, looking around to see if he can spot Greed so he can glare at the man, but he’s suspiciously nowhere to be found. Of course. “Where’s Dol?”

“Packing. Fair warning, Greed practically got you a whole new wardrobe,” she warns, grinning. Ash groans again.

“Someone remind me why I agreed to this?” he says, walking over to the couch and letting himself fall face-first onto it over the armrest. He grumbles incoherently into the cushion until someone’s hand is on his back, gently running their fingers across it. His angry noises fade away, but he doesn’t lift his head or turn to see who it is.

“Because you enjoy spending time with me,” Dol replies, his voice gentle and soft in a way that even Ash isn’t used to hearing. At that he turns his head, sees the grayed fabric of Dol’s breeches beside him, then pulls himself up further so he can rest his face on his thigh. The hand on his back continues its gentle movements until, eventually, Ash’s frustrations at being roped into this thing all but fade away. “You alright?”

“Yeah. Jus’ weird ‘s all. Why’re we doin’ this anyway, Greed tell you yet?” Ash says, nuzzling his cheek against Dol’s leg.

“Yeah, he did. You don’t need to know the details, all you gotta do is follow my lead, alright? And if anything seems off, we’ll come home right away. This shouldn’t be a dangerous job, just gathering information, but if things do get dodgy my priority is keeping you safe.”

Ash doesn’t say anything to that- his trust in Dol is unspoken, they both know it- but he does turn, rolling onto his back so he can smile softly up at him. Something silent, beyond the knowledge of trust given, passes between them. Asher doesn’t know what it is, only that it makes his breath catch in his throat and a warmth to spread out from his chest like molasses. He wishes he had a word for this feeling so he could chase it as often as possible.

There’s a sudden holler from somewhere above them, and then Greed’s muffled voice drifts down after it.

“YOU BITCHES READY TO GO, OR WHAT?!?”

His yell is followed by a series of almost rhythmic thumping, and Ash is confused by it until Greed appears from a hallway, dragging two suitcases behind him and grinning maniacally. Ash sits up, unsure whether he ought to be horrified or amused, then settles for simply incredulous as he takes in the display.

“First of all; what the fuck. Second, those seem kinda big is this really necessary?”

Greed’s answer is a bellowing laugh, and then he strides forward, lifts Ash up from the couch with one arm and hoists him over his shoulder, making his way for the door. Ash yelps first, then hisses, and the sound is so foreign and unexpected that it distracts him from his anger long enough for Greed to get out the door.

“Ro, can you get those bags for us?” Greed calls over his free shoulder before the door shuts. Ash is finally set down outside on the sidewalk, and once he’s reoriented he sees that there’s a waiting taxi in front of them and he comes to two intense realizations all at once. The first is that the last time he was in a vehicle was also the last time he saw his parents alive, and the second is that he suddenly very much wants nothing to do with this job if it means climbing into this metal death trap in front of him. He even turns with full intent to dart back inside and find somewhere small and dark to hide for the rest of the evening, but then Dolcetto is stepping out, Roa behind him- almost purposefully blocking Ash’s escape back indoors.

Ash’s heart is pounding suddenly and there’s a hissing noise in his ears- no, it’s in his head and somehow that’s worse than actually hearing the sound- and he feels like he can’t breathe. His mind is screaming DANGER at him and he wants to get away, to run from it, but his feet feel fixed to the ground. He can’t get in that car. He just can’t. The words repeat and bounce around in his head and he can’t think around them, doesn’t realize how he’s shaking until arms are around him and holding him so tight it’s just short of being crushed. 

Somehow, this is exactly what he needs even though he didn’t know he needed it, and the effect is almost instant. Ash goes limp, and if it weren’t for the arms holding him he would have hit the ground. His heart is still hammering too fast, and his breath is coming in short, little gasps, but the arms around him are warm and his face is pressing into the crook of a neck and when he breathes in his mind tells him this is okay, this is SAFE.

It’s several minutes before his breathing evens out, and the arms around him loosen slightly, but he’s still not out of this yet and whimpers at the loss of comforting pressure, panic spiking again. His hands scrabble at the sides of the person holding him until he can get his arms around them, and then he’s gripping at their clothes, trying to pull himself closer. He doesn’t calm until the arms pull tight again.

He hears voices, but can’t make out any words, unable to focus on anything other than the arms around him until, finally, his ears pick up on the voice closest to him and he realizes that this one is singing. It’s low, and not entirely in tune, but it’s one of Asher’s own songs. Just like that, the panic begins to fade, trickling away until he can breathe easy again and relax his own arms.

“Hey, it’s gonna be alright,” the voice says when the song is done, but Asher doesn’t lift his head yet. He realizes, finally, that it’s Dolcetto’s arms around him, his voice that had brought him down from... Whatever that was, and he’s afraid to pull away. He doesn’t think he can handle looking at the car again. His fear spikes a little just thinking about it, so how the hell is he supposed to get in it and ride somewhere? And if they’re taking a car it means the trip is going to probably be a little long. Ash doesn’t know how he’s going to manage, doesn’t think he even can, but...

He knows he has to, if for nothing else than he gave Greed his word and he wasn’t about to go back on that and make himself look like a fool. How would the man ever be able to trust him again if he did that?

By the time Ash lifts his head and glances at everyone with something akin to embarrassment, the suitcases have already been loaded up into the trunk and the only thing that’s left is to get in. Asher thinks escaping from the labs was far easier than this.

“I don’t know how to do this without...” he waves a hand, wincing slightly and obviously indicating whatever just took place, but Dol lifts both his hands to gently take hold of Asher’s face, cheeks in his palms.

“What if I hold you? The whole way if you need me to. Will that help?”

Ash thinks a moment, considering the offer seriously, then gives a hesitant nod of his head. “I can... I can try that, yeah. Promise you won’t let go?”

“I promise.” Dol chuckles lightly, his thumbs just barely brushing against Asher’s cheeks. They stay like that a moment, and then Greed clears his throat pointedly and Dol’s hands drop. For a stunned few seconds Ash simply stands, frozen. There’d been a brief glimpse of something, however fleeting, and though he didn’t know what it was or what it meant, he hadn’t wanted the momentary feeling to stop. Its lingering effects still fill him with some odd warmth he can’t place, and he dwells on the feeling even as Dol puts an arm around him and pulls him into the taxi.

The reassuring arm around him, and the memory of whatever that was, help keep him calm for the entire trip, and Asher somehow manages to fall asleep, curling comfortably into the warmth of Dol’s side. When he wakes, head resting on Dol’s lap as if it belongs there, Ash feels the car begin to slow, and sits up curiously while still clutched tightly to Dol’s shirt.

“Perfect timing, I think we’re here.” Dol says quietly. Ash peers hesitantly out the window as the taxi comes to a stop, but he doesn’t recognize the scenery. All he knows is they’re no longer in Dublith, and the knowledge feels surreal in his mind- it’s been so long since he settled that he can hardly imagine being anywhere else- and as they get out of the vehicle he looks around, a combination of nervous and curious he doesn’t know how to settle.

They appear to parked outside some kind of hotel, and as Dol works on pulling their luggage out of the back of the car, someone steps out from the front doors to assist him. Ash stands awkwardly to the side on the curb until they’re done, and then Dol takes his arm and they follow the worker inside. Ash is barely taking in the conversations going on around them, staring wide-eyed at the interior of the hotel.

“You two have the room booked under the name ‘Greed’?” the clerk at the front desk, in a crisp, lavender colored uniform, asks when they step up to the counter. Dol gives an affirmative, fishing some papers out of an inner pocket of his gi and handing them to the woman. She gives them a once-over before passing them back.

“You’ve got the honeymoon suite for the week then, one bed, private balcony, and special heated tub as part of the all-included package!” she chimes, and Ash blinks at the words before he remembers that he and Dol are playacting as a couple. And then he has the sense to blush.

Dol is handed a room key and the young man carrying their bags is instructed to lead them to the room, and off they go.

Ash feels like he’s riding the crest of a wave, despite never having seen the ocean or anything similar, and he’s near giddy from the swell of it. By the time the door to their room is opened and they’re inside and Dol is shutting the door behind them, Ash feels like his insides are all full of fireflies and he could float off into the sky at any moment, electric and buzzing. He’s excited. He can’t remember the last time he was this excited. And he doesn’t even know what they’re going to be doing, beyond putting on a show of a happy, newlywed couple. Regardless, he feels exhilarated and full of too much energy to go back to sleep.

“This isn’t quite what I was picturing but I like it. Greed’s really spoiling us, isn’t he?” he says after they’ve settled, sitting out on the balcony. Dolcetto already has his pipe out, and Ash is leaning slightly over the railing, taking in the sight of this unfamiliar city.

“He’s surprisingly good at that, when he’s of a mind to anyway.”

“I’ll have to bake him something extra special when we get back.” Ash grins, scoots his chair closer to Dol’s, then leans his head on his friend’s shoulder.

“He’ll like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the fake-dating trope rears its benevolent head, so get ready for shenanigans! As always, questions and comments are appreciated!


	7. Tender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans don't always work out how they're meant to, but for every storm cloud there's a silver lining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter got away from me a little bit and it gets kind of suggestive, so, bear that in mind. Don't know if I'll ever write anything more explicit than this but for now this is as juicy as it's probably going to get lmao.

There’s a little cafe just across the street from the hotel that Ash hadn’t noticed when they’d first arrived the day before. They’re here now, eating crepes topped with whipped cream and fresh fruit, with juice on the side. Dolcetto opted for a less sweet breakfast- waffles with butter and no syrup, and a bowl of oatmeal on the side, topped with a dusting of cinnamon.

And Ash is not his usual bubbly, smiling self. He’s contemplative this morning, and so quiet that were he not contently munching on his fruit Dol would be concerned that something serious was wrong. But things definitely aren’t right, or at least not as right as Dol thinks they ought to be, and he eats his own food just as quietly, watching and waiting for Ash to break the silence before he loses his damn mind wondering what’s going on.

Eventually, his patience is rewarded, Ash’s plate is clean and pushed to the side- where the hell he managed to put all of that Dol will never know, the guy eats like he’s never been fed sometimes- and he glances up at him with such a look of seriousness that it damn near stops his breath for the worry it instills.

“Somethin’ up?” he asks, breaking the quiet himself because his patience only lasts so long and he desperately wants to know what has him in this funk. And Ash heaves out a little sigh, folding and refolding his napkin until Dol reaches over and plucks it from his hands, forcing him to focus.

“Just... Thinkin’ ‘bout somethin’ Greed said when he asked me to do this.” His gaze cants sideways and his brow furrows slightly, and Dol is again reduced to waiting, ignoring the little voice in the back of his mind that reminds him he’d wait for anything and for as long as life exists if it means keeping Ash happy.

“Do you act different 'round me?” He asks, finally, and Dol huffs because that’s what has him so tangled up inside? But at the look on Ash’s face, he relents.

“We all act differently depending on who we’re with, why does this have you so upset?”

“I’m not upset, just... Confused? Greed implied that you’re... That you’re violent, that you’re the first to jump into a fight, that you scare people with how ready you are to kill, and I...” his voice trails off as he finally lifts his gaze to meet Dol’s, and he isn’t at all prepared for the look of deep sorrow swimming in those fire-bright eyes of his. “There’s a whole other side of you that I’ve never even seen, and I thought we were, like, best friends, y’know? Don’t best friends share everything with each other?”

And then it clicks, and Dol realizes, that all of this moodiness is because Ash thinks he doesn’t trust him fully. And the implication tears him up inside. He pulls out the purse Greed left them with spending money, slaps enough cens to pay for the meal and then some down onto the table, and then he stands, striding around the table to loop an arm around Ash’s shoulders and walk him away and down the street. There’s a park this way, one they’d passed on the ride here, just before Ash had woken up, and it had looked peaceful. Peaceful is just what they need for this conversation.

There’s hardly anyone there when they pass through the vine-covered arch that serves as a gate, and Dol is thankful for that as he leads Ash down a dirt path between grass and bushes and trees, until they come to a curve next to a massive pond or lake, with a little wrought-iron bench off to the side beneath a tree with graceful, drooping branches that fall like a curtain around it and into the water. There are small, pale flowers blooming among the branches, and the smell they give off is faint and sweet, and he breathes it in deep before settling them on the bench.

He’s a little surprised to see a Willow here, but this was a well-off town, with many amenities and features that Dublith lacked. Foreign flora shouldn’t be all that surprising, all things considered. He’s glad for the semblance of privacy the tree offers, nonetheless. Were it not for the subject of their talk, he would almost call this romantic. Perhaps he still could, regardless, at least in his mind.

“It’s true that I can be... Quick to anger, and abrasive and loud, sometimes. Plenty of people have told me I’m an asshole and they aren’t wrong. But I didn’t want you to have any extra negative shit in your life. You’ve had more than enough share of it, and I sure as hell wasn’t gonna be the cause of more. Been tryin’ my damnedest to be on my best behavior around you. Guess it worked a little too well.”

He can’t meet Ash’s gaze, can’t fucking face it if there’s anger there, or worse, hurt. He steels himself against it, internally holding his breath as he waits for Ash to yell or cry or anything. He’s not prepared for the small, breathy laughter at his side, for Ash to turn and press his forehead into the crook of Dol’s neck, giggling against his skin in a way that sets fire to his soul.

He doesn’t deserve this, he thinks, doesn’t deserve the carefree way Ash forgives him his slight without even saying the words, how he knows he’s been forgiven, how he knows Ash would say there’s nothing to forgive. He doesn’t deserve this. But selfishly he takes it anyway and wraps it up tight in the part of himself he’s not ready to let Ash see yet, because that part of him burns too brightly for even him to contain and the moment he lets it out he knows there’ll be no going back to their simple friendship the same way ever again. And it scares him. It scares him how much he loves this young man, how deeply his soul sings for him, in ways that he doesn’t even have words for.

“Can’t believe I was so fuckin’ worried an’ all you’ve been doin’ is tryin’ to look out for me. ‘M sorry for upsettin’ you, Cetto.” Ash finally says in a voice breathless from laughter, and Dol’s heart twinges and aches at the fondness in his friend’s tone.

“Fuck’s sake, Ash, I thought I was gonna have to apologize for upsettin’ you, not the other way around,” and now it’s Dol’s turn to laugh as he pulls Ash close, arm dropping of its own accord to wrap around the other’s waist until he’s snug against his side, more-so than he already was.

“How are we both so dumb?” Ash finally asks when their laughter is faded and instead a pleasant calm is left in its place. Dol doesn’t know how to answer that with a response that won’t set them laughing again, so he simply shrugs and makes as if to stand and pull Ash with him, but the smaller man tugs him back down, keeping them both seated on the bench. “Not yet, it’s really nice here. I kinda wanna stay a bit longer, before we start on that beast of a list Greed left us. Or for you, I guess, since you won’t let me see it.”

“It’s safer if you don’t know, I told you this already.”

“Yeah, I get that. Don’t mean ‘m not gonna be salty ‘bout it anyway. Secrets are so stupid, even if they keep us safe.”

“We don’t have to do anything until lunch anyway, and all it is is showing up to the place he booked so I can do my part in this.”

“Which you aren’t going to tell me.”

“Correct.”

Ash pulls a face that Dol only barely sees out of the corner of his eye, and he chuckles again, turning to press a friendly-and-nothing-more kiss to the edge of Ash’s temple. In a fit of bravery or stupidity, he isn’t sure which, he tilts his face into Ash’s hair, all but nuzzling against the top of his head.

“You’ve been using my shampoo?” he asks suddenly, sucking in a startled breath as the familiar scent of his own personal, woodsy blend he buys special from the market wafts up into his face. Ash shrugs.

“I had to shower at the Nest a couple weeks ago, remember when I stayed over so we could plan that surprise thing for Ulchi’s birthday? Didn’t know who else’s to use, an’ I liked it so much I found the vendor that sells it and started buyin’ it for myself. Or, well, I knew ‘im already, actually. His stall is usually just a few down from mine whenever I set up a cart for a busy weekend instead of openin’ the shop.”

His answer is so casual, so unassuming, that it takes all of Dol’s willpower to not simply kiss Ash senseless right then and there. The audacity of it all, that he would go out and specifically buy the same brand of shampoo as him? Just because he liked it that much? It fills Dol with a possessive sort of fondness, and as they sit under the willow, gaze cast out over the faintly rippling water in front of them, watching the way the light glints off its crystalline surface, Dol is struck by just how lucky his life has turned out.

When they finally leave, hand in hand because Ash just likes the comfort of it, of knowing Dol’s hand will be there in his for as long as he wants it, they’re very nearly too late to make it to their pre-established lunch date. They have to rush to get ready- Dol comes out of the bathroom in what Greed had dubbed ‘civilian attire’ that looks so at odds with his usual clothing choice that Ash keeps stealing curious glances his way. Dol can’t tell what the glances mean, for Ash keeps their intent to himself, but they don’t seem negative. More like a historian appraising a potential work of art for a museum and Dol doesn’t know what to do with the warm, bright feeling pooling in his chest that the thought evokes.

The restaurant, when they arrive via another trip in a vehicle that has Asher white-knuckle gripping Dol’s sleeve, isn’t one of the extremely fancy to-do’s he was expecting, but it’s still a far cry nicer than any place he would have chosen to go to on his own. They are taken to the outdoor seating when they greet the person at the front desk, and the small table they settle at is just large enough that Ash can shift his chair over next to Dol’s so they don’t have to sit on opposite sides. This action garners odd looks from some of the other patrons, but one old woman shoots Dol an appreciative, knowing look that sets him to blushing and looking away with a grump sort of expression.

It doesn’t last, though. He has an actual job to do, and Ash’s grin is wide and infectious and he just can’t hold the frustration for very long with this literal sunshine boy sitting beside him. They order their food after perusing the menu- Ash going for some kind of fish meal, and Dol settling for something akin to meatloaf- and then he heaves a sigh, settling in and glancing around the outdoor patio they're seated at.

Greed had informed him this place was a fronting business for a gang here that was trying to set up roots in Dublith. Some of the higher members knew Greed had had connections to an old gang of his own, one that still existed but not in this part of the country and no longer had any ties to Greed himself other than the fact he’d once been at the head of that organization. And some of this gang’s older members had deep-seated grudges, passed down through generations of beleaguered family members. Greed had probably had a hand in killing one or two ancestors of these people, hence the deep-seated grudges. Not that any of them knew Greed was personally involved in all this, most of them assumed he was related to the old figure and not the actual person himself, but that hardly mattered with these kinds of people.

Any kind of grudge that persists through multiple generations tends to be the kind that doesn’t discriminate, and if they decided someone was a good outlet for their specific brand of justice, they and everyone they cared about was probably screwed.

But Greed wasn’t like most people, and these thugs hadn’t figured that out yet. They would soon enough, once Dol had the information he needed on them. Once he brought that back Greed would put them in their place and route them out of Dublith for good.

Ash, for his part, was blissfully unaware of just why they were here, and for that Dol was glad. The less he knew, the safer he was, and while this wasn’t exactly a dangerous job, he still had his concerns. There was always a chance something could go wrong, no matter how carefully Greed had planned things out, there was no way he could account for every possibility.

Ash makes small talk while they wait for their food, and Dol stays as attentive as he can while still listening in on conversations just outside the range of average human hearing. There’s a lot to keep track of, and most of it is nonsense, nothing he needs, nothing he can work with, until he hears someone mention his own name, not the fake one they were using at the hotel, and a knot forms in the pit of his stomach as he realizes something is wrong. No one here should know who either of them is, and definitely no one should know either of their names.

Screw the food, they both needed to get out of here as quickly as possible.

Dol’s heart is hammering and he knows Ash can hear it with the puzzled look he sends his way, but Dol just shakes his head and wordlessly motions to be followed to the bathroom. Ash gets the hint immediately, standing and pressing a hand to his stomach as if experiencing some kind of upset despite not having their food yet, and Dol jumps at the falsehood, appearing the concerned partner as he loops an arm around Asher’s shoulder and leads him back into the building.

Instead of making a beeline for the bathroom, he turns them at the last second for the front door of the establishment, ignoring the attempts of the nearby waiter trying to guide them back to their seats. They make it out the door without incident, even make the car ride back to their hotel unscathed, but Dol is still wary even as they are locking themselves into their room. Ash doesn’t know what the sudden caution is for, but Dol knows his judgment is trusted when the other man’s concerns go un-voiced. Asher is practical, if nothing else, and accepts that everything Dol does is only ever in an attempt to keep Ash safe even if the methods don’t really make much sense.

He’s got his pipe out before he fully realizes it, but his nerves are too high and his thoughts keep jumping around too much for him to focus on filling it. He’s distracted. He doesn’t like being distracted but he can’t do anything about it because something seriously fucked is going on and this job isn’t turning out as safe as he’d hoped and all he can think is he’s led Ash into something dangerous and if anything happened to him he’d have only himself to blame for agreeing to this.

Then, as if on cue, Ash’s hands are on his own, gently pulling the pipe from trembling fingers and fishing his tin of tobacco out of his pocket. Dol stares dumbfounded as Ash expertly fills the pipe with an almost practiced ease, just like Dol usually does himself, and when he holds it out for him to take back he can barely hold onto it from the weight of this little thing Asher has done. And he doesn’t even realize just how much what he’s done means. His hands are still trembling, and he makes no move to pull out his lighter, so Ash takes the initiative once more, deftly pulling it from his pocket as well.

There’s a momentary stumbling block, as Dol realizes Ash doesn’t actually know how to use the lighter, and the funk he’s in finally breaks and he puts the pipe to his mouth and adjusts Ash’s hands, helping him flick the little button so he can light his pipe for him. It’s sweet and domestic and a whole slew of things all wrapped up in this simple thing Ash has done, and when he takes of pull on the pipe, nicotine flooding his system and calming him, he turns and pulls Ash with him to the balcony to stand against the railing with his arm around him.

He finishes his smoke in just a few minutes, far quicker than he usually does, but he’s stressed as fuck and a little pissed off that things got derailed from the plan so quickly, but at least they’re still safe. For now. But he’s sure that the other gang has been made aware of them being here, and he doesn’t like that knowledge. This whole thing had hinged on their existence staying secret, but now that cat was out of the bag and their options were dwindling. They could stay, try and finish this thing, but it would be hard to do without the comfort of anonymity. And it’d be even more dangerous than before. They were essentially in enemy territory and that never boded well as far as Dol is concerned.

Ash is quiet beside him, clearly aware that something has gone wrong even though he doesn’t know what it is, and Dol can tell he wants to say something but doesn’t know how to voice it.

“Shit’s fucked,” he concedes, and Ash heaves out a sigh.

“Am I still not allowed to know what’s goin’ on?” he asks, a worry lacing his words that Dol wants to chase away.

“Nope, but, uh, don’t leave the hotel by yourself unless I tell you it’s okay to. In fact, you probably shouldn’t even leave the room unless I’m with you.”

Ash stays quiet at this new information, and Dol’s unease only deepens with not knowing what he’s thinking. Several tense minutes pass, Dol finally remembers to tap his pipe out over the railing and tuck it back in his pocket, but Ash still sits in uncharacteristic silence and it’s tearing Dolcetto up to know that he’s caused this and doesn’t know how to fix it other than aborting the job and just cutting their losses while still had them to cut. If it was just him he’d stick it out, no question, but Ash could be in danger here and he didn’t like that. He was ready to quit just to keep him safe, even if it meant facing Greed’s anger over it. Though he somehow suspected, in this regard, that Greed wouldn’t be that angry. The boss was just as fond of Ash as the rest of them and wanted him safe too.

Eventually, after what feels like a lifetime, Ash curls closer against Dol and finally speaks.

“We should finish this if there’s any way we can. I still don’t know what exactly you’re meant to do, but if there’s still a chance to complete this thing like Greed wants, I think we should take it.” There’s a waver in his voice, and Dol doesn’t know if he’s trying to force himself to be brave for his benefit or if there’s some other reason for the tremor in his voice, but he turns Ash to face him suddenly, hands resting gently on his shoulders.

“We can go home now if you really want to. This thing has gotten about a hundred times more dangerous and everyone would understand if you just want to leave.” He says, voice more serious than he’s ever let it be in front of Ash before, but his boy just shakes his head.

“No, I promised Greed I’d try, an’ I’m not scared long as you’re with me. I know you’ll protect me if I need it.” He smiles then, and it’s damn near blinding in its fierceness. Dol doesn’t know what possesses him at this moment, but he’s suddenly both leaning forward and pulling Ash to him all in the same breath, and then their lips are pressed together. He’s _kissing_ him. He’s kissing him and Ash isn’t pulling away.

When the realization catches up to him Dol jerks back, putting a foot of distance between them, and it’s clear on Ash’s face that he’s confused about what just happened, about why Dol jumped back like this, but he can’t talk, can’t think, and panics, darting from the balcony and back inside to disappear into the bathroom.

He’s haunted by the pleased-but-confused look that was on Ash’s face as he’d fled, haunted by the ghost of his lips on his own, haunted by the fire it had sent licking down to his groin. He takes care of it as quickly as possible, shame filling him even as he chases relief because he’s never done this before now, had never had the need to, and it feels wrong somehow to think about Ash this way when he’s just kissed him and then didn’t bother to stick around to explain why.

When he emerges from the bathroom, freshly showered and hair still damp, Ash is waiting placidly on their bed. Their bed. The words send a new thrill through him, one that he’s avoided entertaining before now, but he tests them out in his mind. Our bed. Our home. _Our family_. And he finds he likes how it sounds, how it feels, more than he’d ever care to admit.

Ash has a curious look on his face like he’s only recently come to understand something he hadn’t considered before, but before Dol can think too much on it Ash is beckoning him closer, holding out his hand to tug Dol down onto the bed next to him.

There’s an apology on his lips- for the kiss, for running away, for a million things he’s left unsaid all this time that will continue to remain unsaid if that’s what Asher wants- but before he can get it out Ash pulls him into a kiss of his own, shy at first, then bolder when Dol doesn’t run away again. Dol is stiff with panic for a moment, and Ash leans back enough to glance over his face.

“How have I gone so long without knowing how much you love me? How much I love you?” He breathes out, and he sounds almost sad, pouting suddenly, and Dol melts, pulling Ash back in with a low, slightly keening sort of growl.

“My fault,” he mumbles, trailing his lips along the pulse point of Ash’s neck, and Ash laughs, all breathless and fond until the sound hitches when Dol sucks a mark onto his skin. He pauses then, a little out of breath himself, so he can catch Ash’s gaze. “This is okay? Tell me if you wanna stop.”

Ash grins and it’s brilliant and sharp, and _wicked_ , and he shakes his head. He’s got this look on his face that’s a little bit wild and it’s driving Dol mad but he won’t make another move until Ash says something.

“I’ll bite you if you stop now,” he says firmly, and that’s enough of a yes for Dol to surge forward, pinning Ash to the bed in a tangle of limbs, kissing him until he has to stop for breath, and even then he can hardly bring himself to pause enough for that.

Hours later, or days, neither of them are sure for the passage of time has all but ceased to exist, they are nestled comfortably against each other beneath the covers. Dol’s hand is trailing paths against the large expanse of alchemy scarring spanning Asher’s chest as he presses kisses along its edges, and Ash chuckles lightly, running his fingers through Dol’s hair. They can’t tell whether they’re making up for lost time, or if they’re both really so wrecked for each other that they can’t seem to stop, but neither of them cares. It took them long enough to find each other, to find themselves, and they deserve to get a little lost in these new feelings and sensations.

With the morning comes a sense of clarity that Dol doesn’t know what to do with. In the heat of things, panting beneath him, Ash had whispered the words he’d so desperately been aching to hear for years, and the weight of it hits him now, laying in bed with Asher’s sleeping form curled beside him. Ash loves him. As a friend. _As so much more_. Tears prick at Dol’s eyes and he furiously blinks them away because this sort of thing doesn’t call for tears... And yet.

And yet it does, because the flood of emotion within him is welling up so strongly there’s nowhere else for the excess to go except through his eyes, and eventually, he lets them seep out. It feels good, so good, so much better than he ever expected. And he knows he doesn’t deserve this, he couldn’t possibly, but he’s not gonna let it go now that he’s got it.

“I love you,” he whispers softly at his sleeping form, not wanting to wake him but wanting to get the words out himself. He’s already lost count of how many times he’s said them, but he can’t seem to stop now that he’s allowed to.

He slips from the bed to brush his teeth and get ready for the day, and when he comes back Ash is blinking up at him from where he’s wrapped in the blanket, grinning shyly. Dol presses a kiss to his forehead then sits to pull his boots on. Ash watches, radiating calm and fondness, and before he can ask Dol tells him he has some solo things to do for Greed, and he’ll be back before nightfall, reminding Ash to stay in the hotel room, just in case.

Ash catches him for one more kiss before he stands, nuzzling sleepily against him before finally letting him go, and Dol leaves the hotel feeling a deep contentment he hadn’t thought he’d ever get to feel again.


	8. Anger Rekindled

Dol returns to the hotel disgruntled and surly, wanting nothing more than to just go back to bed and wrap himself in Asher’s affection. This day that had started out so well had quickly gone downhill, and all he had for his troubles was a possibly broken nose and bloody knuckles from when he’d punched a goon because he hadn’t had time or room to draw his sword. He hadn’t even taken them out, either. He could hold his own in most fights but a narrow alley plus six burly men made for bad odds, and Dol had run from that fight until they’d given up on chasing him, but even that made him wary still.

These weren’t the sort of people he’d expect to just give up like that, and he smelled something foul involved in all of this, something Greed clearly hadn’t known about or he wouldn’t have sent Ash here.

He lets himself into their room, glancing around briefly because he doesn’t really want him to see him hurt like this, even though it’s nothing, but Ash isn’t immediately visible. Dol assumes he must be in the bathroom, and makes his way there intending to clean his wounds and shower and put on something clean, but something makes him pause.

The sliding door to the balcony is open halfway, and the chairs are knocked over, and he notices the blanket on the bed has been pulled nearly all the way off, spilling onto the floor. There, on Ash’s pillow, is a piece of paper, or maybe card-stock with how thick it is, with a single design of a winding snake embossed on the center.

Somehow he knows. This is a message from their rival gang. And he won’t find Ash in the bathroom, or likely anywhere else in this hotel. They’d taken him, somehow, and Dol hadn’t been here to keep him safe.

Dol yells, an incoherent sound of rage, grabs at whatever is nearest to him- an expensive-looking vase meets his fingers- and the object is flung across the room, shattering as it collides with the wall and then the floor. There’s a telephone at the front desk he could use to call the Nest, but he doesn’t trust the line, doesn’t trust anything here, so instead he heads out of the hotel entirely. He walks halfway across this town, far from the hotel, from any of the restaurants, and only stops when he finds a payphone, and then slips inside. He shoves in the necessary funds, then rings up the number for the Nest, praying to whatever Gods exist that someone answers quickly.

On the other side of town Asher sits in a nondescript warehouse, deep within the bowels of winding hallways and rooms, his hands tied with rope behind his back and his feet tied to the legs of the heavy metal chair he’s sitting on. He glares daggers at the man by the door, left here to guard him, but stays silent. Gives them nothing. He’d let them think the little scuffle in the hotel was all he was capable of, had let them think they’d overpowered him easily. He’d let himself be taken, and if it weren’t so serious it’d be almost amusing how wrong they were. They thought mere ropes would be enough to contain him? When the moment is right they will pay, he thinks, and quietly waits.

He still doesn’t know what he and Dol were truly doing in this town, but he suspects these men have something to do with it because why else would they have kidnapped him? The only discerning factor is that he was with Dol, and it’s possible someone in this group knows him, or of him, maybe knows of his connection to Greed. Ash wasn’t stupid, he knew Greed had enemies, they just didn’t come up often because most of his enemies didn’t live long enough to become a problem. Whoever this group was, they must’ve been biding their time for a long while, waiting for some kind of opportunity. They were going to regret taking this as an opportunity, Ash would make sure of that if Greed and the others didn’t.

He doesn’t have to wait long before it’s clear something is going on just outside the door of this little storage room, and then the door opens and several people walk in, one of which is a man just shy of meeting Sig’s height and build. The man is shirtless, and emblazoned on his left breast is a tattoo of a snake, curling around his muscles like an almost living thing. Imposing as it is, the image means nothing to Ash, who simply glowers at him.

“My men tell me you refuse to speak, that they ask you pointed questions and you ignore them. You’re a very rude guest, do you know?” he says, and Asher rolls his eyes.

“If this is how you treat guests I have every right to be rude.”

The man quirks an eyebrow at him, glances at a few of the men who came in with him, then sighs.

“They think I’ll be able to get you to talk, and maybe they are right, since you have said more to me than you have to anyone else in the last three hours, but I am going to warn you. I will be the last person to ask you nicely, and if you don’t feel like cooperating, well then, we won’t be so nice after that, understand?” he says, and Ash glares a moment then sighs.

“Yeah, I understand. Doubt you could do anythin’ worse than some a the shit I’ve already been through, though.”

The man shrugs and nods sagely, crossing his arms, then motions for the men who came in with him to all leave, along with the door guard, leaving him alone with Ash.

“You are closely involved with a man we know goes by the name Dolcetto, correct?” he finally asks, and Ash regards him silently for a moment with narrowed eyes before eventually giving a curt nod. “And this Dolcetto, he is associated with another man, who calls himself Greed, yes?”

“What does any of this matter? They’re friends of mine, Dol works for Greed in his bar. We’re here to celebrate our _fucking engagement_ an’ his boss wanted to send us someplace nice, an’ you had to go an’ ruin it all,” Ash lets his anger well up, until his eyes fill with tears, knowing it will look more like he’s scared and upset than angry, even though angry is what he actually is. “I’m just a goddamn baker what could you possibly want with me?”

The man simply shrugs, unfazed by the display of tears. “You have a connection to them, and if we have you, they will likely come for you. If they are truly your friends, that is. You, my boy, are only here because you are being used as bait, nothing more. It isn’t personal, at least not with you. As long as you play nice we have no reason to hurt you, and once all of this is over I’ll be happy to let you go.”

Ash doesn’t trust his words, doesn’t care for anything he says beyond realizing this man is Greed’s enemy. And anyone who is Greed’s enemy might as well be his too. They were family and this man wanted to mess with his family? Ash’s anger rises to a fever pitch suddenly, and his it’s all he can do to not let his claws free and rip the ropes from his wrists so he can tear into this man’s throat. He’s almost shocked by the urge, but doesn’t shy away from it.

“Who the hell even are you people?” he asks, all but spitting the words. The man chuckles.

“You can call us the Vipers. I’m sure Greed will be familiar with the name, though I’m afraid once all of this is over you won’t be able to tell him that yourself, so, telling you makes no difference. You seem smart, I doubt we’ll have to worry about you keeping that pretty mouth shut.”

Ash almost snarls at his words, but he settles instead for bearing his teeth at the man. He knows they’ve gone sharp, far sharper than what a human set of teeth would look, and takes a sadistic satisfaction in the brief surprise that spreads on the man’s face before he smooths his features.

“I admit I’ll be almost sad to see you go, after all this. Someone like you, we could offer you so much, if you had any interest in-” he starts, eyes raking over Ash like he’s simply a piece of meat, and he cuts him off.

“I’m not interested in anythin’ you have to offer. You really think you can pull me to your cause with a few nice words after insultin’ an’ threatenin’ my friends an' family? Nah, ain’t gonna happen. Fuck off.”

The man’s reaction is visceral and instant, and Ash has only a second of warning, to steel himself, before the man is suddenly directly in front of him, forcing his gaze up with a firm hand.

“Careful, pretty thing, I’d hate to have to be the one to rough you up to put you in your place.” His voice is deathly cold, but Ash’s anger burns hotter than the threat looming over him, and something otherworldly possesses him. He spits. Directly on the man’s tattooed chest. And watches, satisfied, as the man’s expression sours into something dark and twisted.

His palm collides with the side of Ash’s skull and his ears ring for a few seconds from the blow, but he’s quick to regain his bearings and glares stubbornly. It’s clear the man doesn’t take kindly to this new disrespect, because when his hand next makes contact with Asher’s face it’s a fist, and this stings more than the slap but Ash doesn’t care, only shakes his head and _grins_ in a manner acutely reminiscent of one of Greed’s characteristic, shark-toothed smiles.

By the time the man finishes taking out his anger, Ash is no longer smiling, at least not outwardly. His face is likely covered in red and purple marks, he’s probably got a black eye, he can feel blood on his lips and leaking from his nose, there’s likely splits in his skin from where the man’s ring-adorned fingers cut him open- but none of it matters. Every blow was fuel, rekindling the old fire Ash had almost forgotten still burned inside of him, and now it is red-hot and billowing, ready to be turned on his captors.

He’s wasted enough time, he thinks, enough time to give the others the chance to realize he was gone, to begin the search for wherever he was. Greed was smart, Ash knew, far smarter than he let on sometimes, and he knew Dol would go to him right away if something was wrong, and that Greed would know what to do. They’d all band together to get him home, of that much Ash was certain.

But these men will pay, and Ash is determined to be the debt collector.

He sits a moment, breathing heavily and watching the man, also heaving from the exertion of pummeling Ash’s face while he seemingly could do nothing about it. And as he does so, he lets his hands turn to weapons behind the chair, where the man can’t see. It takes only a moment and a twist of his wrist to have the ropes falling away and to the floor, and then he quickly leans forward and slices the ropes holding his ankles to the chair.

Before the man has quite realized what’s happening, Ash is standing defiantly in front of him with his claws embedded as deep as they’ll go in his neck.

“I dunno who you Vipers are, or what your beef is with my friend, but your shifty business ends today. I hope you’re prepared for the death you’ve earned, little man.”

Ash grips and then _tugs_ and what’s left of the man’s neck drips in rivulets of red down the front of his chest for a moment, before his body tips and twists and crumples to the floor.

There’s a manic sort of energy running through Asher’s veins now, and he’s a little afraid to stop and think about what it means, decidedly ignoring the red coating his furred hand. He can’t think about what he’s done, about what else he’s going to do. He can’t think about any of it right now, there’ll be time enough for thinking about it later, when he’s safe and back in Dol’s arms again. But right now, whatever this new energy is, Ash has to chase it for as far as it’ll take him, no matter where it takes him.

He wipes his hand on his shirt, then kneels and fishes in the man’s pockets, pleased to find a set of keys which he quickly uses to open the door and peek out. The guard from before is still waiting outside, and he turns, shocked to see Ash’s battered and bruised face leering out at him. He only gets a moment of shock before Ash is tackling him to the floor and sinking sharp teeth into tender flesh. He bites down hard, cutting off his strangled cry, and then moves on down the hallway he’s in.

He doesn’t have a plan beyond trying every door until he finds a way out, but it’s the only plan he has, so Ash is sticking to it for now. There’s no other alternative, as far as he can see.

He dispatches three more of these Vipers before he notices it- a new sound, one that cuts through everything else, including the vague ringing in his ears. Distant screams. Ash is shaking, and tired, and somehow still full of manic energy, but the sound of distant screaming adds a new, feral sort of glee to the entire situation. Because he knows it means his friends are near, all he has to do is follow the sound.

He takes off in a sprint, following the noise and mercilessly tearing through everyone in his path, so that by the time he emerges into what must be a main storage area, a wide, actually-looks-like-a-warehouse room that’s open and massive but littered with construction equipment and supplies, he looks a mess.

His arms are coated in blood, both his own and others because some of the men had had weapons, and when he spies Greed, covered head to toe in the gray-black material that serves as his shield, monstrous and wonderful, with Dol beside him, the fight goes out of him. He stumbles, a cry pulling from his lips, and then his legs give out as his adrenaline, which had been fueling his massacre up to this point, fades away.

Dol rushes to his side, kneeling next to him and pulling him into his arms, and Ash lets his claws go away, clinging to the front of Dol’s gi and staining it with the proof of the sins he’d committed here. He doesn’t realize he’s shaking or crying until Greed is next to them, shushing him and lifting him out of Dol’s arms. Dol looks nearly as beat-up as Ash does, and Ash idly thinks that must be why he’s taking the initiative to carry him for him, but he doesn’t think much farther than that before he passes out.

He wakes up in Dol’s bed, bandaged and safe. Half is head is wrapped in gauze, one of his eyes is entirely covered and his face feels swollen, and his whole body aches. But he’s alive, and otherwise whole. And next to him, slumped against the wall with his arms crossed, clearly so dog-tired he passed out watching him, is Dol. Ash shifts, wanting to reach out to him, but the movement sends red-hot licks of pain to shoot all over his body and he stills, whimpering.

Dol is instantly awake, jerking upright with a start and then leaning toward Ash, grabbing his hand gently.

“Hey,” he says, voice soft and gentle, and _oh_ , it was definitely worth getting his face pummeled so he could wake up to this. And there’s so many things he wants to say that the words swirl around in his head before any of them can make it out.

“You look like shit,” is what manages to come out of his mouth. Dol chuckles, but the sound quickly twists, chokes into a sob, and he ever so gently puts his arms as much around Ash as he can without jostling him.

“Thought I lost you again,” he whispers, and Ash squeezes his hand.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

It’s two weeks before the bandages can be fully taken off. Most of the swelling is gone, but he’s still too sore to stand on his own, can barely move his fingers, can’t even go to the bathroom unassisted, but Dol is with him every step of the way, taking care of him to the point it’s almost too much for Ash to bear.

Roa, who picked up enough pointers from Ash over the time they’ve known each other, has been looking after the bakery for him, and Ash feels bad for having not been there, for not being able to physically check in with Izumi, he even feels bad, to an extent, for the men whose lives he took.

And when, in the midst of his recovery, he has days where the reality of what he had to do weighs on him so heavily he feels he’ll be crushed by it, Dol is there, ever-patient, and gentle in ways Ash hadn’t even considered possible for someone to be with him. He doesn’t ever feel better about it, not really, because he _killed_ people, their blood was so thick on his hands you couldn’t see the color of his skin or fur or claws beneath it.

And when he wakes from a nightmare of screams, and drowning in red, Dol is always there, quick to comfort and hold him until his shaking stops.

And when he’s fully healed, when the memory of what happened is nothing more than lingering scars and semi-persistent nightmares, the others all regard him with a new respect that Ash doesn’t know what to deal with. They don’t treat him any differently, not really, but he can see it in their eyes, the pride they have for him and how he fought to get back to them. Dol’s love, his family’s love, the combined effort of it all is enough to ease some of the non-physical pain that still follows him around.

When he sees Sig and Izumi again, they don’t question the scars that litter his face and arms, and they don’t question why Dol tails along in a hesitant display of ‘meeting the parents. Instead they cook them a warm meal, simply glad that Ash is safe and has apparently gained new knowledge on the matter of his heart.

There’s a brief moment, before the pair leaves, where Sig pulls Dol aside while Izumi has Ash’s attention. He tells him simply to take care of their boy as he has been doing, and thanks him for bringing him home safe. When they go his grip on Ash’s hand is just shy of too tight, but Ash squeezes back, understanding somehow without them sharing words, just what Dol is trying to convey.

Their lives settle back into the previous, carefree routine, and Ash’s happiness is somehow even greater than before, swelling and growing with each passing day, until he is all but overflowing with it, even on the days when nightmares leave him trembling in his bed.


End file.
